BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

O 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


RIFLE,  ROD,  AND  GUN 

IN  CALIFORNIA 

A     SPORTING     ROMANCE 


THEODORE  ^VAN  DYKE  _>  \ 

Author  of  "The  Still  Hunter"  "Southern  California,"  etc 


THIRD  EDITION 


FORDS,  HOWARD,  &  HULBERT 

1889 


COPYRIGHT,  A.  D.  1881, 
BY   JOHN   C.    VANDYKE. 


oft  Libral* 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.  Black  Brant  and  Curlew I 

II.  First  Glimpse  of  Inland    Shooting 22 

III.  Coursing  Hares 34 

IV.  The  Valley  Quail  of  California 45 

V.  Goose  Cavalry— Ducks  and  Quails 59 

VI.  A  Glance  at  the  Olden  Time 72 

VII.  Among  the  Geese  and  Cranes 84 

VIII.  New  Tactics 9& 

IX.  Easy  Work  at  Duck  Shooting 109 

X.  Bounding  Beauty I21 

XL  The  Mountain  Trout 13* 

XII.  The  Silver  Trout  at  Home 140 

XIII.  The  Great  American  Trout-Swine 151 

XIV.  In  the  Heart  of  Cucamunga 163 

XV.  Trout  and  Trouble J74 

XVI.  JuneShooting T79 

XVII.  A  June  Buck. T9T 

XVII I.  Corraling  Antelope •  •  •     206 

XIX.  Mountain  Game 2I0 

XX.  The  Mountain  Quail 22? 

XXI.  Deer  Hunting 24° 

XXII.  Deer  in  the  Open  Hills 255 

XXIII.  Tracking  Deer  on  Bare  Ground 266 

XXIV.  The  Mutual  Jokers 28° 

XXV.  The  Doctor's  Last  Hunt 29T 


TO 

Hittbreir  Spirits 

TO    WHOM    THE    COUNT    OF    GAME    AND    THE 

SIZZLE    OF    THE    FRYING-PAN 

ARE 

THE  LAST  AND   LOWEST 
OF  THE 

PLEASURES  OF  FIELD  AND   STREAM. 

<TI)iG  Ijonk 

IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED. 


RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN 


IN 


CALIFORNIA, 


CHAPTER  I. 

BLACK    BRANT    AND    CURLEW. 

WHAT  lake  is  this  that  so  peacefully  sleeps  in 
its  green  girdle  of  hills  on  this  February 
morning,  sweet  and  fair  as  the  brightest  day  of  June  ? 
Over  its  glassy  face  rolls  bright  and  sparkling  the 
beaded  water  from  the  dripping  oar,  as  our  boat 
glides  along.  Around  us,  the  merganser  and  the  loon 
rise  and  disappear,  and  far  away,  water-fowl,  white 
and  black,  loom  up  in  the  mirage.  On  the  slope 
of  land  behind  us  lie  some  indications  of  what  is  to 
become  a  city,  and  beyond,  the  country  rolls  backward 
and  upward  into  a  table-land.  As  we  recede  farther 
and  farther  from  the  shore,  white  mountain-tops 
appear  in  the  distance  ;  then  we  see  the  dark  blue 
below  the  snow-line  ;  then  behind,  to  right  and  to 
left,  lower  peaks  of  blue  and  gray  rise  in  sight. 

It  is  a  wild  and  tumbling  sea  of  land  ;  "  a  land 
where  it  seems  always  afternoon  ;"  a  land  far  beyond 
the  orbit  of  the  tramp,  the  chromo  man  and  the  in- 
surance agent  ;  where  the  spinster  is  not  a  burden 


2  RIFLE,  ROD  AND  GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

and  the  voice  of  the  lightning-rod  man  is  not  heard  ; 
where  the  beggar  can  afford  to  ride,  and  to  breakfast  at 
ten  ;  a  land  where  one  is  forgotten  by  some  of  his  old 
friends,  and  by  others  remembered  the  more  kindly ; 
where  nothing  is  certain  but  death,  and  even  that  is  a 
remote  contingency ;  a  land  yet  inviolate  by  Lim- 
burger,  the  Bologna,  or  any  other  flavor  of  European 
civilization;  a  land  of m  bees,  birds,  and  rabbit-fed 
bachelors. 

This  fair  sheet  of  shining  green  water,  so  deep,  so 
long,  so  safely  locked  against  all  storms,  is  the  harbor 
of  San  Diego  ;  and  the  town  that  lies  on  yonder  slope 

is  "  the  future  seat  of  empire  of  this  vast  western " 

half  of  San  Diego  County  anyhow. 

And  who  are  these  two  young  gentlemen  in  the  boat 
now  gliding  over  the  bay  :  the  one  bright  and  bloom- 
ing of  countenance,  with  dark  hair  and  soft  black 
mustache,  with  a  smile  rippling  around  the  corners 
of  a  well-cut  mouth,  and  a  twinkle  of  good-humor  in 
his  bright  black  eyes  ;  the  other  of  more  sober  and 
intellectual  face,  once  decidedly  handsome,  but  now 
sunken  and  sallow  ?  The  first  is  Dr.  Belville,  a  young 
physician  from  San  Francisco,  who  has  come  down  to 
enjoy  a  few  weeks  of  the  winter  shooting  of  Southern 
California.  The  other  is  Charles  Norton,  a  young 
Bostonian,  who  has  come  to  California  to  cure  his 
consumption,  which,  has  not  yet  advanced  so  far  as  to 
preclude  good  hopes  of  recovery.  Norton  and  Bel- 
ville met  on  the  steamer  from  San  Francisco,  and 
having  arrived  and  got  settled,  Belville  is  now  taking 
his  new  acquaintance  across  the  bay  of  San  Diego,  to 


BLACK  BRANT  AND   CURLEW.  3 

show  him  some  of  the  coast  shooting  of  this  part  of 
the  State.  Belville  has  been  from  boyhood  an  ardent 
sportsman,  has  made  several  hunting  tours  in  Southern 
California,  and  is  familiar  with  its  best  game  and  fish 
preserves.  Norton,  in  his  school-days,  when  he  used 
to  spend  part  of  his  vacations  at  his  uncle's  farm,  had 
a  decided  weakness  for  distressing  gray  squirrels  with 
the  flavor  of  cheap  powder  from  the  ancestral  single- 
barreled  shot-gun,  nearly  as  ancient  and  long  as  the 
old  clock  on  the  landing  in  the  stairway.  But  during 
many  years  of  business  life,  he  had  not  even  touched 
a  gun,  and  had  everything  to  learn  that  a  sportsman 
should  know. 

On  the  steamer  Belville  had  given  Norton  what  so 
few,  even  of  old  and  experienced  physicians,  seem  able 
to  give — good  advice  about  amusing  himself  out  of 
doors.  "  The  worst  of  all  enemies,"  he  said,  "  with 
which  an  invalid  has  to  contend  at  a  sanatarium,  or 
resort  for  the  effect  of  climate,  is  ennui.  Wherever 
you  may  go,  whether  to  San  Diego,  Colorado,  Florida, 
Mentone,  Egypt,  or  Algiers,  this  fiend  will  follow  you. 
It  is  the  same  everywhere  :  a  few  days'  sight-seeing, 
a  few  days'  riding  about,  and  then  the  everlasting  sit, 
sit,  sit,  mope,  mope,  mope,  relieved  only  by  finding 
fault  with  the  climate  for  not  producing  an  immediate 
cure,  and  by  almost  hourly  comparison  of  symptoms 
and  feelings  with  every  other  invalid  you  happen  to 
meet.  Meanwhile,  the  face  grows  daily  longer,  the 
ribs  thinner,  and  the  cough  deeper.  The  "  sights"  lose 
all  their  interest ;  the  scenery  is  a  bore  ;  you  lose  your 
appetite  ;  and  hypochondria  fastens  itself  upon  you. 


4-  RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

and  hastens  your  down-hill  speed.  Such  is  the  fate  of 
many  whom  mistaken  kindness  sends  away  from  the 
comforts  of  home  and  friends,  only  to  die  among 
strangers  in  a  far-off  land.  Of  course,  many  come  too 
late  to  be  helped  by  anything  ;  but  a  large  number 
also  die  through  sheer  ignorance  of  how  to  improve 
climatic  advantages." 

"  I  have  little  doubt  you  are  correct,  though  I  had 
not  thought  of  it  before,"  was  Norton's  reply.  "  But 
what  amusements  are  there  in  this  fag-end  of  crea- 
tion ?" 

"  The  very  best  of  all  for  an  invalid-flight  and  easy 
hunting,  with  plenty  of  game.  The  game  is  indeed 
inferior  to  that  of  the  East.  No  royal  grouse  with 
hoarse  resounding  wing  goes  booming  like  a  shaft  of 
darkness  through  the  tangled  brake.  No  long-billed 
beauty  goes  upward  through  the  s*apling  grove  with 
the  whistling  pinion,  swift,  twisting  flight,  and  aristo- 
cratic colors  that  used  to  make  me  think  that  the 
preacher  of  old  when  he  said,  *  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is 
vanity,'  had  never  inspected  an  autumn  woodcock 
over  the  rib  of  a  good  hammerless  breech-loader 
—no  "  vanity "  about  that !  And  dear  little  Bob 
White ! — excuse  me,  I  can't  go  on.  It  is  saddening  to 
think  of  the  difference. 

"  Then  there  can't  be  much  pleasure." 

"Oh,  yes.  Though  inferior,  it  is  game  never- 
theless. And,  moreover,  what  the  sport  lacks  in  the 
nobility  of  the  game  is  more  than  made  up  by 
the  great  ease  with  which  it  may  be  followed.  To 
be  able  to  travel  in  almost  any  direction  with 


BLACK  BRANT  AND   CURLEW.  5 

a  buggy  or  with  the  aid  of  a  saddle-horse — 
an  article  very  cheap  here — to  stroll  beneath  soft, 
clear  skies,  over  green  sod  and  flowery  hillsides, 
with  no  mud  to  flounder  through,  no  briers  or  saw- 
grass,  with  no  chilled  fingers,  wet  feet,  or  mosquito- 
riddled  face,  and  in  two  or  three  hours  have  all  the 
shooting  that  a  man  should  desire,  and  that  without 
going  quarter  of  a  mile  from  your  buggy  or  horse, 
for  one  who  has  recovered  from  the  foolish  youthful 
pride  in  being  'tough,'  'a  tireless  tramper,'  and  so 
on,  is  hunting  par  excellence.  And  such  is  winter  hunt- 
ing here." 

"  I  once  liked  hunting,  but  never  was  anything  of 
a  shot.  And  I  have  not  tried  it  for  years,"  said 
Norton. 

"  Once  in  the  field,  I  will  warrant  you  a  quick  re- 
turn of  the  old  love,  and  in  flood-tide  too.  There  is, 
probably  no  part  of  the  Union  where  a  tyro  can  meet 
with  such  speedy  success  as  here.  When  we  get  to 
San  Diego,  I  will  take  you  across  the  bay  and  introduce 
you  to  some  of  the  feathered  gentry.  One  glimpse  of 
black  brant  will  wake  you  from  your  long  sleep  like 
an  electric  shock." 

Belville  then  took  Norton  to  his  state-room  and 
showed  him  his  new  hammerless,  self-cocking  breech- 
loader with  all  its  shining  accoutrements,  fancy  coat, 
etc.,  and  as  Norton  gazed  upon  them  and  heard  their 
owner  explain  their  various  excellences,  and  wax  elo- 
quent over  the  virtues  of  Dittmar  powder,  choke-bores, 
and  chilled  shot,  he  began  to  feel  strange  emotions 
springing  up  from  some  hitherto  unknown  corner  of 


6  RIFLE,  ROD  AND  GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

his  soul.  And  when  Belville  took  him  to  where  his 
dog,  Prince,  a  sleek  pointer  of  liver  color  and  white, 
was  chained  on  the  lower  deck,  and  saw  the  dog  lick 
his  chops,  lash  his  tail,  and  stretch  his  claws  on  the 
floor;  and  heard  him,  with  sparkling  eyes  fixed  on  his 
master,  whine  and  yelp  with  joyful  recollections  as 
Belville  told  how  the  veteran  had  pointed  woodcock 
in  New  Jersey  swamps,  sniffed  the  fragrance  of  the 
ruffed  grouse  in  Pennsylvania,  skimmed  the  frosty 
stubbles  in  Maryland;  how  many  pinnated  grouse  had 
fallen  before  him  in  Minnesota,  and  how  many  ducks 
he  had  retrieved  in  an  evening  from  the  dense  tules  of 
the  Sacramento,  Norton's  faint  emotions  broke  into  a 
decided  tumult. 

"  I'll  have  to  try  some  of  that  sport  right  away," 
said  he.  "  I'm  sorry  now  I  didn't  bring  a  gun  with 
me." 

"You  can  get  pretty  well  fitted  out  in  San  Diego," 
said  Belville.  "  They  have  gun-stores,  and  indeed  all 
kinds  of  stores,  far  better  than  you  would  suppose. 
And  you  can  soon  get  from  San  Francisco  anything 
they  cannot  furnish  you  at  San  Diego." 

It  required  but  a  short  time,  after  Norton  got  well 
rested  at  San  Diego,  to  equip  him  with  a  fair  breech- 
loader and  plenty  of  cartridges,  a  coat  and  hat  of  the 
color  of  sea-weed,  and  a  pair  of  rubber  boots,  From 
one  of  the  many  hospitable  and  accommodating 
sportsmen  there  Belville  soon  borrowed  a  boat, 
twenty-five  or  thirty  black-brant  decoys,  and  a  light 
box,  low  and  broad,  and  of  sea-weed  or  mud  color,  to 
be  used  as  a  blind.  This  was  not  a  regular  sink-box, 


BLACK  BRANT  AND   CURLEW.  7 

or  floating  battery,  but  a  movable  blind,  light  and 
dry,  easily  shifted  from  place  to  place  along  the 
wet  and  muddy  shores. 

With  this  outfit,  our  friends  were  now  crossing  the 
bay,  the  box  containing  the  decoys  being  towed  be- 
hind the  boat.  Under  the  vigorous  strokes  of  Belville, 
who  was  used  to  rowing,  they  soon  crossed  the  bay, 
and  turned  into  Spanish  Bight  just  as  the  tide  began 
to  ebb.  A  few  moments  more  brought  them  to  a 
narrow  place  near  the  upper  end  of  the  Bight,  half 
a  mile  or  so  from  where  the  surf  was  booming 
against  the  sand  spit  that  formed  the  end  of  the 
Bight.  There  they  anchored  the  box  at  the  outer 
edge  of  the  grass  and  sea- weed  that  fringed  the  shore, 
and  placed  the  decoys  in  the  water  some  thirty  yards 
farther  out.  Collecting  more  sea-weed,  they  made 
the  fringe  complete,  so  as  to  hide  the  box,  and  Nor- 
ton took  his  seat  in  it,  while  Belville  took  the  boat 
away  several  hundred  yards  along  the  shore.  Then 
returning,  he  ordered  Prince  to  lie  down  in  some 
weeds  on  shore,  and  the  well-trained  dog  obeyed. 
Then  Belville  got  into  the  box,  and  he  and  Norton 
laid  themselves  in  it  lengthwise  and  opposite  to  each 
other,  the  bottom  of  the  box  resting  on  the  mud. 

After  they  were  thus  disposed,  some  ten  minutes 
passed  away  with  no  signs  of  game.  Life  enough 
there  was,  but  not  of  the  kind  they  wanted.  Around 
them,  the  gull  winged  his  unwearied  flight;  little  fish- 
hawks  of  almost  pure  white  shot  from  on  high  into 
the  water  ;  divers,  shags,  and  fish-ducks  of  various 
kinds  dove,  swam,  or  "  skittered  "  along  in  front  ;  the 


8  RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

gray  pelican  with  his  long  bill  out-stretched,  poised 
in  his  dignified  flight,  dropped  with  a  heavy  chug 
into  the  water,  and  coming  up  again  bolted  with  true 
American  expedition  the  breakfast  he  had  caught; 
while  bunches  of  small  snipe  went  hissing  by  with 
rapid  wing.  But  they  had  not  waited  long,  when 
Belville  suddenly  said  : 

"Down  close  now  !  Here  comes  a  flock  of  curlew. 
The  tide  is  now  low  enough  for  the  birds  to  fly." 

Swiftly  up  the  Bight  came  a  flock  of  birds  about 
the  size  of  small  teal,  and  winding  around  the  turns 
in  the  shore,  in  a  moment  were  almost  over  the 
blind.  With  breasts  of  light  buff,  wings  nearly  the 
same  color  underneath,  and  long  bills  outstretched, 
the  birds  looked  like  gigantic  woodcock  whose  bills 
had  been  warped  into  crescents  by  the  dryness  of 
the  climate.  Their  clear  " teet-a-leet,  teet-a-leet"  went 
ringing  across  the  Bight,  as  Belville  raised  his  gun, 
upon  which  they  pitched  and  wheeled  in  all  directions. 
But  one  descended  with  a  splash  at  the  crack  of  the 
first  barrel  of  the  gun,  and  as  it  struck  the  water  the 
second  barrel  rang  out,  and  another  bird  came  whirl- 
ing down  with  his  wings  broken  and  sprawling. 

Prince  still  lay  in  the  grass,  head  up,  awaiting  his 
master's  order  to  fetch  the  birds.  At  the  word  he 
bounded  into  the  water  and  started  first  for  the 
wounded  bird  which  he  brought  to  the  edge  of  the 
box,  his  eye  sparkling  with  satisfaction,  and  delivered 
to  his  master  without  a  feather  ruffled.  He  then 
brought  in  the  other,  shook  the  water  from  his  dripping 
coat,  and  went  back  to  lie  down  at  the  command. 


BLACK  BRANT  AND   CURLEW.  9 

After  they  had  waited  a  few  minutes  more,  another 
clear,  penetrating  " teet-a~leet,  teet-a-leet"  came  ringing 
from  the  distance,  and  a  larger  flock  than  before  came 
rapidly  following  the  sound  of  the  cry,  now  massing 
like  an  armed  host,  now  scattering  like  leaves  before 
the  wind,  then  closing  up  again  in  solid  column.  As 
they  flew  low,  and  close  to  the  box,  Belville  whispered 
to  Norton  to  take  the  first  shot.  As  Norton  raised 
himself  a  little  to  shoot,  the  penetrating  cry  of  the 
flock,  still  repeated,  so  startled  him  that  he  missed  the 
upward -darting  and  swerving  birds,  first  with  one 
barrel  and  then  with  the  other.  But  as  they  hurried 
off  in  alarm,  Belville  pacified  one  with  his  first  barrel, 
and  materially  enhanced  the  speed  of  the  rest  with 
the  other. 

Another  flock  came  winding  up  the  line  of  the 
shore,  just  as  Prince  was  bringing  in  Belville's  bird ; 
and  seeing  the  dog,  the  birds  swung  out  some  fifty 
yards  from  the  box.  Norton  fired  again,  and  from  the 
rear  of  the  flock  a  bird  settled  with  a  cerebro-spinal 
incongruity  into  the  water. 

"  A  good  long  shot,  that !"  exclaimed  Belville.  "  If 
you  had  held  at  the  front  line  of  the  flock,  you  would 
have  got  more,  perhaps.  However,  one  is  good  enough. 
But  here  comes  another  bunch.  With  this  ebbing  tide 
they  are  flying  fast  now." 

Low  along  the  water,  and  not  twenty  yards  from  the 
box,  this  flock  drifted  by,  their  long,  curved  bills,  dark 
eyes,  and  brown  backs  shining  in  the  sun,  thirty  or 
forty  of  them,  all  advancing  in  even  and  .swift  array. 
Norton  felt  a  strange  sensation  as  along  the  smooth, 


10          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

trim  barrels  of  his  gun  he  saw  the  sickle-bill  and 
brown  wings  of  the  foremost  bird  ;  and  his  heart  beat 
hard  as  he  pulled  the  trigger,  and  saw  through  the 
smoke  the  fast-sailer  lower  its  jib,  reef  in  its  sails,  and 
anchor  in  the  shallow  water. 

"Isn't  this  splendid  !"  he  said,  as  he  took  down  his 
gun. 

"  I  think  them  pretty  good  game,  though  they  are 
little  hunted  here,"  said  Belville. 

"  Do  they  fly  like  this  every  day  ?" 

"At  ebb  tide  they  do.  At  low  tide  they  are  busy 
feeding  on  the  flats,  and  at  high  tide  they  are  on  land, 
or  up  the  inlets  waiting  for  the  ebb.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  birds  on  this  bay,  and  in  the  tide-waters  of 
California  generally ;  but  they  are  hard  to  get  at  ex- 
cept in  this  way.  There  is  another  kind  larger  than 
these,  but  so  much  slower  and  tamer,  that  there  is 
really  little  fun  in  shooting  them.  At  least,  all  I  have 
seen  were  so.  They  are  of  a  dark  cinnamon  color, 
with  dark  bronze  wings,  glossy  as  those  of  a  wild 
turkey.  I  think  it  is  too  early  for  them  yet,  as  I  never 
have  seen  them  much  before  April.  I  have  seen 
them  in  May  at  San  Luis  Rey,  tame  enough  to  shoot 
with  a  pistol — provided  one  was  a  good  shot,  of 
course." 

And  what  is  this  dim  line  of  dark  bodies  fast  loom- 
ing over  yonder  sand  spit  to  seaward,  and  which  our 
friends  are  too  busy  talking  to  see  ?  The  line,  rapidly 
rising  in  the  western  blue  now  changes  into  two  long 
converging  strings,  and  the  V-shaped  train  bears 
swiftly  down.  It  is  not  strange  that  you  cannot  name 


BLACK  BRANT  AND   CURLEW.  \\ 

them  ;  for  rare  is  the  man  who  has  ever  seen  one  east 
of  the  Pacific  coast.  They  are  too  small  for  geese; 
their  stroke  of  wing  is  too  fast,  and  they  cleave  the  air 
too  swiftly.  Nor  are  they  ordinary  brant :  their  stroke 
of  wing  is  still  too  fast.  Nor  are  they  mallards  ;  for 
they  are  much  too  large,  are  nearly  black  in  color, 
and  grow  blacker  yet  and  more  shiny  as  they  ap- 
proach. 

Now  they  sweep  by  about  one  hundred  yards  out, 
and  change  color  fast.  A  white  collar  appears  around 
the  glossy  black  neck,  and  the  dark  breast  shades 
swiftly  into  white.  Like  a  procession  of  sable  gentle- 
men in  black  broadcloth,  white  neckties,  and  long 
white  aprons  pinned  around  behind,  they  glide  past 
with  a  "wah-oouk,  wah-oouk"  that  arouses  Belville  from 
his  carelessness,  and  he  leaves  to  Norton's  imagination 
the  conclusion  of  a  joke  he  has  been  inflicting  on  him. 

"  So  much  for  not  watching!  We  must  be  careful 
now,  for  when  these  chaps  once  start  they  come  fast. 
Keep  close  down,  and  don't  move  your  gun  or  head 
until  they  are  near  enough,  and  then  be  quick,"  said 
Belville. 

"Those  were  brant,  I  suppose,"  said  Norton. 

"  Yes,  the  black  brant,  the  finest  of  American  water- 
fowl. They  are  never  found  inland,  and  will  not  cross 
even  a  point  of  land  if  they  can  fly  around  it.  It  is 
said  that  this  bay  and  False  Bay,  four  miles  above,  are 
the  only  places  in  California  where  they  are  found. 
But  it  is  a  California  weakness  to  like  a  monoply  of 
anything  good,  so  it  is  permissible  to  doubt  this 
statement.  But  it  is  certainly  a  rare  bird  anywhere 


12         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

but  here  and  the  bays  of  Lower  California.  They  are 
coming  in  now  from  the  sea  as  the  tide  goes  down." 

Another  dark  line  was  fast  rising  above  the  high 
sand-bank  that  shut  out  the  grumbling  breakers  to- 
ward the  west,  and  both  men  dropped  low  and  were 
silent.  On  came  the  birds,  widening  out  their  line  and 
growing  darker  and  larger  every  second  as  they  plied 
their  swift  black  wings.  In  a  slow  but  even  curve  they 
swept  in  toward  the  decoys,  and  the  soft  hiss  of  their 
stiffened  sailing  wings  was  becoming  audible,  when 
Norton,  getting  anxious,  turned  his  head  a  little  to  get 
a  better  look  before  rising  to  shoot.  In  a  twinkling, 
there  came  from  a  dozen  of  the  advance-guard  the 
warning  "wah-oouk!  wah-oouk!"  and  instead  of  the 
black  broadcloth  vests  and  swallow-tailed  coats,  the 
expectant  hunters  saw  only  the  snowy  fluttering  of 
the  white  skirts  of  fifty  nether  garments  fast  sheering 
a,way  from  them  across  the  Bight. 

"  You  see  they  are  gamey  enough,"  said  Belville, 
laughing.  "  You  must  be  careful  not  to  move  until 
ready  to  shoot." 

"Are  they  very  hard  to  shoot?" 

"  Not  hard  to  hit,  if  they  once  get  close  enough  ;  for 
although  quicker  far  than  any  other  kind  of  goose, 
they  are  still  slower  than  a  duck.  But  they  shed  shot 
as  subscribers  do  editorial  appeals  to  pay  up,  and 
even  when  they  get  a  good  charge,  often  bear  up  under 
it  as  patiently  and  bravely  as  a  school-boy  under  his 
headache  after  school  time  has  passed. 

"Down  low  now!"  he  added  quickly,  as  another 
line  of  black  dots  appeared  in  the  west.  "  We'll  let 


BLACK  BRANT  AND   CURLEW.  13 

these  light,  so  as  to  give  you  a  good  shot.  Don't 
move  till  you  hear  them  settle  in  the  water." 

Swiftly  the  dark  ranks  advanced  down  the  Bight, 
nearly  a  hundred  strong.  In  two  long,  diverging  lines, 
with  a  heavy  bunch  at  the  apex,  they  glided  past,  low 
down  along  the  water  and  just  out  of  shot,  winnowing 
the  still  warm  air  with  the  rapid  but  gentle  stroke  of 
their  glossy  wings,  their  black  necks,  breasts,  and 
white  underwear  pictured  in  the  glassy  surface 
below. 

"  Don't  move  an  inch  !"  whispered  Belville.  "  They 
will  come  back." 

For  two  or  three  hundred  yards  they  sped  straight 
on,  then  curling  upward  and  sideways,  they  turned  with 
long  and  graceful  sweep,  and  with  stiffened  wings 
came  sliding  swiftly  down  the  air,  straight  toward  the 
decoys.  But  just  as  they  were  curving  their  wings  to 
settle,  and  the  air  began  to  hiss  with  their  swiftness, 
one  among  them  cried  "  wah-oouk  f  and  in  an  instant 
the  air  throbbed  again  with  the  heavy  beat  of  strong 
pinions,  and  in  a  confused  huddle  of  black  and  white 
they  dashed  outward  toward  the  sky. 

Bang  !  went  two  barrels  almost  at  once,  and  the 
aspirations  of  one  ambitious  colored  gentleman  cul- 
minated and  declined.  Bang  !  bang  !  went  two  more 
shots,  and  another  concluded  to  join  the  minority. 
The  majority  wheeled  off  down  the  Bight,  and  soon 
looked  like  an  away-going  flight  of  revolving  arrows 
feathered  with  white  and  black. 

There  was  not  long  to  wait  for  the  next  shot,  for 
when  these  birds  fly  at  all  they  generally  fly  thick 


14          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

and  fast  as  the  shades  of  night  in  this  southern  land, 
and  another  flock  soon  loomed  up  in  the  west. 

"  Now  possess  thy  soul  in  patience,  until  you  hear 
them  light,"  cautioned  Belville. 

Both  crouched  low  in  the  box,  and  in  a  few  seconds 
a  silken  rush  was  heard,  then  the  hiss  of  wings,  and 
finally  a  long  swt's/i,  as  they  settled  into  the  water. 
Dull  as  a  home  without  a  baby  must  be  the  soul  of 
him  who  could  be  cool  and  collected  on  the  first 
day  of  his  introduction  to  such  noble  birds  as  these; 
and  Norton  was  a  gentleman  of  refined  sensibilities. 
His  hands  trembled  as  he  raised  his  head  and  gun 
over  the  edge  of  the  box;  his  pulse  bounded,  and  a 
strange  joy  thrilled  him  like  an  electric  shock,  as  he 
planted  a  full  charge  of  shot  fair  into  the  thickest 
part  of  the  flock of  decoys  ! 

Like  a  flash  the  air  above  the  decoys  was  filled  with 
a  wild  medley  of  flapping  wings  and  cries  of  "  wah- 
oouk"  Two  black-and-white  bustling  bodies  dropped 
into  the  water  with  a  splash  at  the  crack  of  Belville's 
gun,  while  Norton's  second  barrel  roared  vainly  at.  the 
rest  as  they  dashed  away,  until,  from  far  across  San 
Diego's  bay,  the  flutter  of  their  white  raiment  faded 
into  the  distant  glimmer  of  the  water. 

"  I  was  a  little  too  greedy,"  said  Norton  regretfully. 
"  I'll  look  sharper  next  time." 

Large  flocks  of  curlew  still  winged  by,  with  their 
ringing  note  ;  bunches  of  snipe  whisked  over  the  box 
almost  within  arm's  reach  ;  sandpipers,  willet,  shore- 
plover,  and  waders  of  various  kinds  scudded  past;  but 


BLACK  BRANT  AND   CURLEW.  15 

all  these  looked  contemptible  now,  and  were  allowed 
to  pass  on  unhailed. 

"  Here  come  some  more,"  said  Norton's  friend  and 
guide.  "Don't  move  until  I  do.  They're  coming 
straight  for  us." 

There  were  fifteen  or  twenty  in  the  flock,  moving  in 
a  crescent- shaped  bunch.  When  they  were  almost 
over  the  box,  Belville  suddenly  rose,  and  at  the  crack 
of  his  gun  a  ghostly  display  of  linen  in  dishabille  in- 
stantly took  the  place  of  the  trim,  sable  robes  in  which 
the  visitors  arrived,  and  two  heavy  birds  came  whirl- 
ing down  into  the  mud,  one  to  each  barrel.  Norton 
raised  his  gun  and  saw  a  white-and-black  climbing 
body  in  line  with  it  ;  he  pulled  the  trigger;  a  distinct 
chiff ' !  was  heard,  and  a  few  snowy  feathers  parted 
from  their  owner,  which  twisted,  wiggled,  lowered, 
swung  off  to  the  right,  lowered  again,  then  finally  rose 
and  flew  off  to  join  his  companions. 

"  It  took  him  some  time  to  make  up  his  mind,"  said 
Belville.  "  He  was  pretty  hard  hit,  but  they  are 
tough." 

Soon  half  a  dozen  lines  and  bunches  rose  in  the  hor- 
izon, and  widening  out  and  then  closing  up,  stringing 
out  and  then  bunching  again,  they  came  in  a  long  pro- 
cession down  the  Bight,  all  black  as  they  approached, 
white  and  black  as  they  passed  just  out  of  shot,  and 
nearly  white  as  they  faded  in  the  sheen  of  the  distant 
water.  Then  came  a  single  brant,  fast  fanning  the 
air  with  alonely  " wah-oouk"  and  bobbing  his  black 
head  and  neck  about,  looking  for  company.  At  last, 


16          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

seeing  the  decoys,  he  swept  around  in  a  graceful 
curve,  set  his  wings,  and  rode  down  an  invisible  in- 
cline, as  swiftly  and  softly  as  a  falling  star. 

Bang  !  went  one  barrel  of  Belville's  gun.  the  shot 
skittering  over  the  water  beneath  the  bird.  The 
brant  swiftly  picked  up  the  legs  he  was  lowering  into 
the  water,  and  traveled  off  at  a  rate  that  must  have 
required  wings  and  legs  both,  while  two  more  "  dogs 
of  war"  vainly  barked  in  his  rear. 

Yet  still  they  come,  a  few  up  the  Bight,  but  most  of 
them  from  the  sea.  Over  the  sand-banks  and  dunes 
they  fly,  black,  thick,  and  swift,  mass  after  mass.  But 
nearly  all  are  now  drifting  silently  past,  without 
deigning  to  look  at  the  decoys  ;  for  the  tide  has 
left  the  decoys  aground,  all  except  two  or  three 
which  are  still  rocking  in  a  few  inches  of  water.  Now 
and  then  a  flock,  drawn  a  little  out  of  the  regular  line 
of  travel  from  the  sea  by  curiosity  or  sociability, 
comes  over  to  take  a  look  at  the  deceivers,  but  with 
little  idea  of  stopping.  Occasionally,  a  bird  whirls 
plunging  into  the  mud  with  a  sullen  thump,  or  comes 
struggling  and  flapping  down  at  the  crack  of  Bel- 
ville's gun  ;  but  the  greater  number  pass  by  with  in- 
violate broadcloth  and  dignity  unlowered.  Thus 
flock  after  flock  drifts  by  out  of  reach.  Strings  of 
twenty,  fifty,  even  a  hundred,  swing  by  just  nicely 
out  of  reach,  and  without  turning  even  to  look  at  the 
decoys.  Belville  and  Norton  would  now  gladly  have 
shot  at  the  lately  despised  curlew,  but  no  more  were 
flying.  All  were  feeding,  and  they  could  be  seen 
along  the  shores,  ambling  over  the  mud-flats  by  the 


BLACK  BRAN 7'  AND   CURLEW..  17 

hundred,  along  with  willet,  sandpipers,  dowitchers, 
snipe,  and  plover.  And  there  were  also  brant, 
waddling  along  the  outer  edge  of  the  mud,  looking 
large  as  turkeys  in  the  mirage.  These  were  the  first 
that  had  been  seen  to  touch  ground  voluntarily.  Be- 
fore long,  nothing  was  on  the  wing  but  the  tireless 
gull  and  the  ever-hungry  pelican  and  fish-hawk.  The 
flight  had  ceased,  and  there  was  nothing  for  the 
sportsmen  to  do  but  leave. 

"  It  needs  a  regular  sink-box  for  this  sort  of  thing," 
said  Belville,  as  they  started  to  gather  their  traps. 
"  But  then  we  had  good  enough  sport." 

"  Splendid,  I  call  it,"  said  Norton,  who  was  delighted 
with  his  first  experience  of  California  shooting. 

The  sun  was  fast  sinking  into  the  west,  when  a  light 
buggy  containing  two  ladies  stopped  on  the  high 
mesa,  or  table-land,  back  of  San  Diego.  One  of  them 
drew  from  her  pocket  a  strong  opera-glass  and  looked 
out  upon  the  smooth  face  of  the  bay. 

"  Yes,  there  they  are  !"  she  exclaimed,  turning  it 
upon  two  small  dots  just  coming  out  of  the  Spanish 
Bight.  "  I  can  see  Charley  plainly,  and  the  Doctor  is 
rowing  with  his  back  this  way." 

"  Do  let's  stop  and  look  at  the  sunset,"  said  the 
other.  "I  have  never  seen  the  sun  set  on  such  a 
smooth  sea  and  in  such  a  clear  air  as  that  yonder.  I 
have  seen  him  go  down  in  a  wild  whirl  of  boiling 
waves  or  slowly  drowning  in  a  bath  of  fog.  I 
have  have  seen  him  rise  with  the  pale  glare  that 
foretells  a  stormy  day,  or  with  the  fierce  glassy  face 


18          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

of  a  hot  morning.  But  this  will  be  new  as  well  as 
lovely." 

Long  fleecy  streams  of  cloud  spanned  the  western 
horizon  like  a  golden  suspension-bridge,  while  an  out- 
ward-bound steamer,  with  her  dark  hull  and  rigging 
clearly  cut  upon  the  lake  of  crimson  fire  beneath,  was 
trailing  her  sooty  banner  against  the  brilliant  back- 
ground. Over  the  placid  face  of  the  still  ocean  the 
light  shot  landward  in  a  long  lane  of  carmine  and  gold, 
down  which  the  steamer  with  her  long  smoky  trail 
on  the  sky,  making  a  filagree  of  ruby  and  jet,  seemed 
drifting  into  a  haven  of  fire.  Sixty  miles  to  the  east- 
ward, the  snowy  crown  of  Cuyamaca  shone  with  a 
golden  glow  ;  the  castellated  crags  of  El  Cajon  and 
other  rocky  peaks  were  purplish  gray  ;  the  dark  green 
vests  of  the  chapparal-clad  mountains  turned  grad- 
ually into  a  deep  blue.  The  mountains  of  Mexico 
seemed  to  be  swimming  in  a  soft  blue  haze,  and  the 
bold  rocky  islands  of  the  Pacific  loomed  higher  and 
darker  against  the  glowing  south-west. 

"  They  are  nearly  across  the  bay  now,  and  will  be 
at  the  hotel  before  us  unless  we  hurry,"  said  the  lady 
with  the  glass.  This  was  Miss  Laura  Wilbur,  a  young 
lady  of  about  twenty,  to  whom  Norton  was  engaged, 
who  had  come  on  from  Boston  to  California  partly  to 
see  the  country,  but  principally  to  contribute  to  the  re- 
covery of  her  lover  by  giving  him  encouragement  and 
cheer  in  his  temporary  banishment  from  home  and 
friends — a  most  commendable  plan,  which  those  who 
send  friends  away  for  their  health  are  too  apt  to 
neglect. 


BLACK  BRANT  AND  CURLEW.  19 

She  was  accompanied  by  Miss  Eveline  Norton,  the 
only  sister  of  Charles  Norton,  who  had  no  duties  at 
home  to  interfere  with  her  joining  her  brother  in  his 
sunny  retreat.  She  was  slightly  older  than  Miss 
Wilbur,  "  enough  older,"  she  said,  "  to  matronize  the 
party,"  and  was  possessed  of  the  same  delicate,  intel- 
lectual beauty  that  characterized  her  brother,  which 
was  not  in  her  case  marred  by  the  marks  of  disease. 

Both  these  young  ladies  were  strong  and  active, 
fond  of  such  out-door  sports  as  are  accessible  to  a 
city  life — boating,  lawn  tennis,  and  archery.  In  the 
latter  field  they  had  long  been  famous  among  the  fair 
toxophilites  of  "  The  Hub,"  and  had  carried  away  in 
successive  years  the  highest  prizes  and  honors  that 
their  club  had  contended  for.  It  was  no  small  part  of 
the  pleasure  they  anticipated  from  their  Californian 
trip,  that  they  were  to  try  whether  their  prowess  with 
the  bow  upon  the  greensward  could  be  turned  to 
practical  account  upon  real  game  in  the  forest.  But 
they  had  not  thought  of  indulging  in  a  prolonged 
"hunt,"  until  Doctor  Belville  had- persuaded  Mr.  Nor- 
ton that  the  ladies  could  easily  go  with  them,  and 
that  their  participation  in  his  amusements  would  be  a 
good  thing  for  him.  They  had  brought  with  them  a 
complete  outfit  of  bows,  arrows,  and  other  essentials, 
and  were  to  share  the  sport  with  their  brother  and  his 
friend,  whose  return  from  the  first  day's  sport  they 
were  now  awaiting. 

"  What  a  beautiful  site  for  a  city  !"  said  Norton  as 
the  returning  boat  approached  San  Diego,  which  the 


20         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

sun  now  deluged  with  soft  light  as  it  lay  sloping  to- 
ward the  bay.  "  And  what  large  buildings  for  such  a 
far-off  place  !" 

"  Few  cities  in  the  world  have  had  finer  prospects 
than  San  Diego,  and  few  could  have  existed  so  long 
upon  deferred  hopes.  Time  was  when  the  Texas 
Pacific  Railroad  was  actually  building,  and  several 
miles  were  graded,  capitalists  by  the  score  and  the 
hundred  arrived  on  every  steamer,  and  men  had  to 
form  lines  at  the  real-estate  offices.  But  "  Black 
Friday"  and  the  subsequent  hard  times  brought  about 
a  collapse  in  the  railroad  finances  and  let  the  bottom 
out  of  everything.  Few  cities  of  its  size  west  of  the 
Alleghanies  can  boast  as  much  culture,  intelligence, 
and  refinement  as  San  Diego,  and  its  people  are  a 
marvel  to-day  for  their  courage  and  unwavering  faith 
in  their  future." 

"You  talk  as  if  you  owned  real  estate  there,"  said 
Norton. 

"  Not  an  inch.  But  then  I  admire  pluck  wherever  I 
see  it,  even  though  it  may  be  kicking  against  the 
pricks." 

The  light  in  the  lofty  light-house  of  Point  Loma 
twinkled  like  a  star  in  the  afterglow  of  the  departed 
sun  ;  the  sea-gull  folded  his  wing  and  settled  upon 
the  smooth  water;  the  cry  of  the  brant  died  away 
and  the  dark  flocks  rode  silent  on  the  distant  water  ; 
in  quiet  dignity  the  pelican  sat  meditatively  on  the 
glassy  surface  of  the  bay,  and  his  heavy  chug  into  the 
water  was  heard  no  more.  The  shags  and  divers 
drifted  silent  on  the  flowing  tide  ;  the  whistling  wings 


BLACK  BRANT  AND   CURLEW.  21 

of  the  fast-scudding  buffel-heads  ceased,  and  the  dis- 
tant Table  Mountain  of  Mexico  faded  into  the  dim 
line  of  the  surrounding  mountains  as  the  boat  grated 
on  the  sandy  shore  by  the  town. 

Leaping  from  the  boat,  the  hungry  sportsmen  col- 
lected their  game  and  their  traps,  and  having  arranged 
for  these  to  follow  them,  they  made  their  way  to  the 
hotel,  where  they  were  joyfully  received  by  the  young 
ladies.  Over  a  good  supper  they  recounted  their  ex- 
periences of  the  day,  and  afterwards,  Belville  con- 
siderately strolled  off  with  his  cigar,  leaving  Norton 
behind  to  talk  of  his  friends  at  home,  and  to  the  more 
tender  joys  of  communion  with  the  friends  that  had 
come  with  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    INLAND    SHOOTING. 

TO  bump  the  reader  over  the  long  corduroy  road 
of  description  leading  to  the  various  causes, 
emotions,  propensities,  tendencies,  and  motives  which 
lead  to  a  sneeze,  is  considered  by  some  evidence  of 
rare  talent.  It  constitutes,  they  say,  "  fine  character- 
drawing,"  "subtle  analysis  of  human  nature, ""ex- 
quisite portrayal,"  and  so  on. 

But  there  are  also  many  who  deem  these  tedious 
analyses  boresome,  even  in  a  novel.  And  if  a  bore  in 
a  novel,  it  would  be  doubly  so  in  a  work  which  is 
purely  descriptive,  and  in  which  the  part  that  the 
novel-reader  might  foolishly  mistake  for  the  body  of 
the  work  is  only  a  faint  thread  inwoven  to  break  the 
monotony  and  to  fill  the  "  chinks." 

Many  of  the  connecting  links  in  the  chain  of  events 
will  therefore  be  omitted  :  why  our  dramatis  persona 
did  this  or  that,  or  why  they  went  here  or  there.  And 
if  any  reader  does  not  like  the  thread  of  romance  on 
which  are  strung  the  pearls  of  sport  and  adventure,  let 
him  be  comforted  by  the  thought  that  it  occupies  far 
less  space  than  in  many  sporting  works  is  devoted  to 
getting  the  hunters  waked,  dressed,  fed,  armed, 
"liquored  up,"  and  into  the  field. 

It  was  the  last  week  of  ^ebruarv,  and  Belvilje  and 


FIKS7*  GLIMPSE   OF  INLAND   SHOOTING.        23 

Norton  with  the  two  ladies  were  whirling  in  a  light, 
open,  two-horse  wagon  over  the  strips  of  plain  that  in 
the  fair  valley  El  Cajon  lie  along  the  bottom  of  the 
San  Diego  River,  fifteen  miles  east  of  San  Diego  Bay. 
Belville  and  Norton  were  provided  with  their  shot- 
guns ;  but  the  ladies  were  indulged  in  their  desire  to 
try  if  they  could  turn  to  practical  use  the  skill  they 
had  acquired  as  archers  over  the  tented  lawns  of  Bos- 
ton, and  had  brought  their  bows  and  a  plentiful  supply 
of  arrows.  Along  the  edge  toward  the  river  were  small 
ponds,  fringed  with  high  weeds  and  grass.  As  the 
wagon  drew  near  one  of  these,  Belville  stopped  the 
horses  and  said  to  Miss  Wilbur,  as  he  assisted  her  to 
alight: 

"  Now,  Miss  Diana,  there  is  a  splendid  chance  to 
try  the  virtues  of  the  weapon  of  the  gods.  There  are 
some  ducks  in  that  pond,  and  if  you  keep  around  to 
the  right  and  get  into  that  little  gully,  and  then  stoop 
low  until  you  get  behind  those  high  weeds,  you  will 
be  sure  of  a  good  shot.  But  be  careful  not  to  let 
them  see  you.  In  the  meantime  I  will  slip  around  on 
the  opposite  side  and  hide  behind  that  little  bush  to 
congratulate  any  that  may  chance  to  escape  the 
deadly  arrow." 

Through  the  fringe  of  weeds  that  lined  the  pond 
some  small  dark  objects  were  seen,  some  in  motion, 
others  at  rest.  In  a  few  moments  Belville  was  lying 
flat  and  motionless  on  the  greensward  behind  the  little 
bush,  and  Miss  Wilbur  with  bow  and  arrows  was  fast 
nearing  the  edge  of  the  pond.  Forgetting  the  Doctor's 
instructions,  she  raised  her  head  too  quickly  and  too 


24         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

high,  and  in  an  instant  there  was  a  vigorous  "  quack, 
quack,  quack"  mingled  with  the  heavy  beat  of  rapid 
wings,  as  about  twenty  mallards  sprang  into  the  air, 
in  a  bustling  confusion  of  long  necks  of  burnished 
green,  gray  mottled  backs,  white-banded  dark  green 
tails,  and  wings  flashing  with  a  broad  band  of 
golden  green  on  a  background  of  brownish  gray. 
Loosed  from  her  trembling  hand,  her  arrow  flashed 
harmlessly  below  the  flock,  and  quivered  in  the  bank 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  pond.  Away  went  the 
ducks  slanting  swiftly  upward,  but  also  onward,  and 
directly  toward  Belville's  hiding-place.  When  they 
were  nearly  over  it  a  shaft  of  flame  shot  up,  and 
two  ducks  wilted  and  came  whirling  down  with  a 
heavy  thump.  As  the  rest  climbed  skyward  with  a 
sudden  dash  of  throbbing  wings,  another  line  of  fire 
streamed  up,  and  another  duck  relaxed  his  hold  on 
air  and  sank  like  a  plummet.  As  Belville  picked 
up  the  ducks  he  saw  Laura  Wilbur  fast  emptying  her 
quiver  at  something  in  the  water,  and  when  she  had 
finished  he  went  to  her. 

"  I  have  shot  one,  too  !  I  have  shot  a  duck  ! " 
she  exclaimed  gleefully  as  he  approached.  He  looked 
where  she  excitedly  pointed,  and  there,  near  the  side 
of  the  pond  opposite  Laura,  lay  a  mud-hen  im- 
paled by  an  arrow,  while  the  feather  ends  of  about  a 
dozen  more  arrows  were  just  visible  above  the  water 
around  the  supposed  duck.  Belville  would  not  spoil 
her  pleasure  by  telling  her  it  was  not  a  duck;  but  a 
feeling  of  deep  disappointment  stole  over  her  as  she 
contrasted  its  dull,  dark  feathers  and  miserable  little 


FIRST  GLIMPSE   OF  INLAND  SHOOTING.        25 

body  with  the  golden  sheen  of  the  green  necks  and 
heads,  the  cinnamon  gloss  of  the  breasts,  the  richly 
mottled  backs,  and  large  plump  bodies  of  the  mallards 
that  Belville  had  brought  down.  And  stronger  yet 
was  the  contrast  between  the  stupid  action  of  the  bird 
that  sat  and  let  a  dozen  arrows  cleave  the  water 
around  it,  with  the  behavior  of  the  mallards  that 
sprang  into  the  air  at  the  first  alarm  and  soared 
rapidly  away  at  such  a  keen  pace.  And  to  see  one 
thing  hit  while  at  rest  and  another  tripped  in  its  whizzing 
career  on  high  convinced  her  more  than  ever  that  she 
had  not  brought  down  the  right  kind  of  game. 

"  I'm  slightly  afraid,  Miss  Wilbur,  that  you  will  have 
to  condescend  to  the  vulgar  gun  if  you  want  much  suc- 
cess," said  Belville,  with  a  sympathetic  smile. 

"  Oh,  I  prefer  the  bow,  still,"  she  answered  de- 
cidedly. 

"  It  is  more  poetic,  I  know,"  responded  Belville,  "  and 
I  admit  there  is  a  delightful  flavor  of  antiquity  about  it. 
But  like  the  aureole  of  sentiment  with  which  we  encircle 
the  head  of  the  noble  savage,  it  is  much  better  for  all 
practical  purposes  to  contemplate  in  books  and  on  the 
lawn  than  in  the  field.  Although  a  splendid  thing  for 
target-shooting  and  lawn  amusement,  and  even  very  good 
for  some  kinds  of  game,  it  is  hardly  the  thing  for  much 
success  in  general  shooting  in  these  days." 

"  That  is  because  everything  is  scared  nearly  to  death 
by  the  noisy  and  destructive  gun,"  retorted  Laura. 

"  Be  it  so.  I  regret  that  myself,  and  should  enjoy 
hunting  more  if  the  gun  had  never  been  invented.  But 
it  has  been  invented,  and  has  had  its  effect  in  making 


26        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

game  both  scarcer  and  wilder;  and  I  adapt  myself  to  the 
world  as  it  is  and  not  as  I  would  like  to  have  it.  Some 
good  shooting  can  still  be  had  with  the  bow,  and  I  should 
like  to  use  it  myself  a  little.  Plenty  of  rabbits,  some 
squirrels,  mountain  quails,  a  few  valley  quails,  and  a  few 
ducks  can  be  easily  shot  with  it  here.  But  the  greater 
part  of  American  game,  and  far  the  nobler  part,  must 
now  be  taken  on  the  wing,  which:  cannot  be  accomplished 
to  any  extent  with  the  bow.  Such  birds  as  robins, 
larks,  woodpeckers,  and  in  my  opinion  even  doves,  it  is 
a  shame  to  shoot  with  anything,  either  at  rest  or  on  the 
wing." 

During  this  conversation  Belville  and  Laura  had  made 
their  way  back  to  the  wagon  with  their  game,  which  they 
displayed  to  their  companions.  Taking  their  seats  they 
proceeded  on  their  way.  As  they  drove  along,  a  large 
hare  slipped  out  of  a  bush  by  the  roadside,  and  canter- 
ing along  with  a  few  high  and  graceful  leaps,  stopped 
about  thirty  yards  to  one  side  of  the  road,  and  rising  up 
on  its  hind  legs,  with  its  long  ears  pointed  toward  the 
zenith,  turned  its  sparkling  black  eyes  upon  the  party. 

"  Now,  Miss  Wilbur,"  said  Belville,  "  please  try  rny 
gun  on  that  fellow.  The  horses  will  stand  and  you  can 
shoot  right  out  of  the  wagon." 

"  Oh  !  I'm  afraid.     Evy,  you  try  it  first." 

Miss  Norton  took  the  gun  and  raised  it.  As  the  gun 
came  up  in  line  with  the  hare,  the  animal  started  on  an 
easy  canter,  but  on  a  straight-away  course ;  and  she 
caught  a  glimpse  along  the  barrels  of  long  ears,  brown- 
and-yellowish  coat,  and  flickering  black  tail,  skipping 
over  the  golden  ranks  of  the  violets,  the  blue-stars  and 


FIRST  GLIMPSE   OF  INLAND   SHOOTING.        27 

fern-like  carpet  of  the  alfileria,  the  thick  mats  of  pinks 
and  the  white  and  azure  bells  of  the  shooting  stars. 
Almost  unconsciously  she  pulled  the  trigger.  She  felt  a 
slight  shock,  and  a  faint  vision  of  rolling  clouds,  with  a 
brownish  yellow  acrobat  tumbling  somersaults  over  the 
spangled  earth  beneath,  rose  for  a  second  before  her 
sight.  And  in  that  second  an  entirely  new  set  of  feel- 
ings sprang  at  a  bound  from  some  hitherto  unknown 
corner  of  her  soul. 

"That  is  splendid!  isn't  it?"  she  exclaimed. 

"You  will  get  to  think  so  if  you  try  it  awhile,"  said 
Belville,  as  he  jumped  from  the  wagon  to  pick  up  the 
hare,  returning  with  which  he  added:  "  But  it  is  fair  to 
tell  you  that  all  shooting,  even  in  as  easy  a  country  to 
hunt  as  this,  is  not  as  simple  as  that.  However,  you 
will  here  find  plenty  that  is  easy  enough." 

In  a  few  moments  more,  some  small,  gray  birds  were 
seen  gliding  over  the  sod  to  one  side,  at  which  Belville 
again  stopped  the  wagon,  and  offering  the  gun  to  Laura, 
said :  "  Now  it  is  your  turn,  Miss  Wilbur.  There  are 
some  plover,  and  you  cannot  get  close  enough  with  the 
bow.  Take  the  gun  and  walk  up  to  them  as  fast  as  you 
can,  and  don't  let  them  run  away  from  you/' 

She  took  the  gun,  after  she  had  been  assisted  out  of 
the  wagon,  and  walked  to  within  sixty  yards  of  the  birds, 
when  they  began  to  glide  away.  With  soft,  mellow 
whistle  and  thin  trim  legs  moving  so  fast  as  to  be  nearly 
invisible,  they  slipped  over  the  velvet  sward  several 
yards  at  a  time,  stopping  occasionally  to  turn  their  little 
beaded  eyes  upon  the  strange  apparition,  then  moving 
swiftly  on  again  as  the  gun  was  raised. 


28        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"I  told  you  they  would  run  away  from  you,"  said  Bel- 
ville  as  he  came  up  on  foot.  "  You  must  walk  fast  and 
shoot  the  minute  they  stop.  Raise  the  gun  quickly, 
and  the  instant  you  see  it  in  line  with  them,  pull  the 
trigger." 

She  started  again  on  a  half-run,  but  getting  too 
close  to  them  before  she  knew  it,  the  little  things  with 
light  and  graceful  wing  swung  themselves  into  the  air 
making  some  musical  observations  as  they  went.  Laura 
stopped  and  fired,  but  the  charge  only  shivered  a  little 
mound  of  violets  a  few  feet  behind  them. 

"  You  see  it  is  not  quite  as  easy  as  giving  an  opinion 
on  the  financial  question,"  said  Belville.  "  And  these  are 
very  easy  birds  to  shoot,  too." 

"I  should  like  to  learn  how  to  do  it.  But  I  suppose 
like  everything  else  it  needs  a  teacher." 

"  You  can  teach  yourself  quite  well  for  ordinary  shoot- 
ing. Practice  is  the  main  thing." 

"  But  there  is  nothing  like  a  teacher.  Mr.  Norton 
taught  me  to  use  the  bow  at  the  target,  and  I  soon—" 

"  Sent  a  shaft  home  into  your  teacher's  heart?"  said 
Belville,  with  a  quizzical  side  glance  at  Laura. 

She  stood  for  a  second,  startled  at  the  easy  imperti- 
nence of  the  remark,  but  quickly  answered  :  "  It  takes 
something  stronger  than  an  arrow  to  reach  a  man's 
heart." 

"  And  therefore  you  wish  to  learn  to  use  the  gun?" 

"You  seem  well  skilled  in  chaffing." 

"  But  are  there  not  a  few  grains  even  among  chaff?" 

"There,  they  have  lit  again," said  Laura,  not  appear- 
ing to  notice  the  last  remark;  but  pointing  away  over 


FIRST  GLIMPSE   OF  INLAND   SHOOTING.        29 

the  Turkey  carpet  of  purple,  gold,  white,  crimson,  and 
blue,  to  a  broad  patch  of  pink  that  thickly  covered  part 
of  a  slope  of  glowing  green.  "  It  is  too  far  to  walk. 
Let's  ride,"  she  added,  as  her  compamon  started  to  go 
on  foot. 

"As  you  wish,"  he  replied.  "  I  will  try  and  give  you  a 
shot  out  of  the  wagon,  but  you  must  shoot  the  moment  it 
stops,  please,  or  they  will  begin  to  run  again,  and  you 
might  miss  them  running  as  well  as  flying." 

He  drove  rapidly  toward  the  birds  on  a  slanting  course 
until  within  thirty  yards  of  them,  and  then  suddenly 
stopping,  said,  "  Now  shoot !"  Laura  pointed  the  gun 
until  their  little  thin  legs,  flickering  with  speed  like 
wheel-spokes,  carried  the  game  well  out  of  reach,  and 
then  fired.  The  smoke  came  rolling  back  into  the  faces 
of  the  occupants  of  the  wagon,  and  when  it  cleared  away 
nothing  was  in  sight. 

"I  hit  them  all,  didn't  I?"  she  inquired  quite  inno- 
cently. 

"  I  knew  you  were  hoodwinking  me.  You  played  it 
quite  well,  too,"  said  Belville. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Why,  I  see  you  are  an  old  hand  at  the  business.  But 
really,  I  would  advise  you  not  to  give  full  scope  to  your 
skill  here,  for  it  is  customary  among  California  sports- 
men to  leave  a  bird  or  two  in  a  flock."  So  saying,  he 
jumped  out  and  went  over  to  where  she  had  shot  at  the 
birds. 

"  Pshaw !  I  wasn't  quick  enough.  That  provoking 
gopher  has  got  them  all !"  he  exclaimed,  looking  into  an 
owl's  hole  in  the  ground.  He  reached  in  and  drew  out 


30         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

two  or  three  owl-feathers,  and  bringing  them  to  the 
wagon  said,  "  Here's  something,  though,  for  a  trophy." 

"  Why  !     Do  gophers  catch  birds  ?" 

"They  'go  for'  everything  that  comes  along.  The 
next  time  we  must  hurry  and  get  ahead  of  him." 

"It's  too  bad,  I  declare!"  said  Miss  Norton,  sympa- 
thizing with  Laura's  defeat. 

"  Oh,  that's  a  very  reasonable  contribution  from  one  of 
her  standing  toward  keeping  up  the  gopher  family.  Some 
folks  contribute  half  a  dozen  orange-trees  or  a  dozen 
apple-trees  every  season.  But  there  is  a  pheasant!  Now, 
Norton,  you  can  take  a  turn,"  said  Belville,  pointing 
to  a  long-geared  thing  like  a  cross  between  a  ruffed 
grouse  and  a  weather-cock  that  was  scudding  along  the 
edge  of  the  plain  near  some  brush.  Driving  rapidly  up, 
they  got  within  easy  shot  just  as  with  nimble  leg  it  was 
running  around  a  patch  of  prickly-pear.  Norton  fired 
and  knocked  over  a  "  road-runner,"  "  paisano,"  or  "  chap- 
paral  cock,"  as  they  are  called — an  insignificant  bird  sel- 
dom shot  in  California,  though  not  at  all  bad  eating. 

"I  haven't  seen  a  pheasant  since  I  was  a  boy,"  said 
Norton,  surveying  it  proudly.  "  But  isn't  it  smaller  than 
our  Eastern  bird  ?" 

"Y-e-s,  a  trifle.  But  what  it  lacks  in  quantity  it 
makes  up  in  quality,"  was  the  reply.  "  Ah !  there  are  some 
more  plover,"  added  Belville,  after  a  short  circuit  that 
brought  them  around  to  the  very  same  flock  Laura  had 
shot  at  before,  and  which  had  lit  only  a  few  rods  ahead  of 
the  old  place  in  a  piece  of  low  ground.  "  I'm  almost  afraid 
to  trust  you  with  these,  but  if  you  will  promise  to  leave 
two  I  will  lend  you  the  gun,"  he  said  to  Laura. 


FIRST  GLIMPSE   OF  INLAND   SHOOTING.       31 

"  Maybe  I  will  leave  them  all,"  she  answered,with  a  laugh. 

"Well,  I  don't  care,"  he  said;  "only  please  don't  leave 
them  long  enough  for  the  gopher." 

She  got  out  with  Norton,  and  this  time,  crouching  be- 
hind a  little  elevation  of  ground,  approached  quite  close 
to  the  plover.  Then  rising  up  she  fired,  and  two  lay 
stretched  upon  the  sod. 

"  Get  them  quick  !  Look  out  for  the  gopher !"  called 
'  Belville. 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  expecting  to  see  a  gopher 
come  out.  But  seeing  no  hole  at  hand,  she  picked  them 
up,  saying,  as  she  brought  them  to  the  wagon:  "What 
little  beauties  !  Are  these  like  Eastern  plover  ?" 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  Belville,  as  he  whipped  up  again. 
"  Most  all  southern  California  birds  vary  a  little  from  their 
Eastern  relatives,  and  it  is  interesting  to  note  the  differ- 
ences. Do  you  see  that  meadow-lark  warbling  his  spring 
song  from  that  bush  to  the  right  that  hangs  so  full  of  scarlet 
bells?  You  see  his  breast,  like  an  island  of  jet  in  a  pond 
of  gold,  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  Eastern  bird.  So,  too, 
is  his  coat  of  russet  and  black,  and  his  modest  cap 
and  tail.  But  you  might  watch  him  a  year,  and  you 
would  never  hear  a  note  from  him  like  that  of  the  Eastern 
lark — the  '  k-wank — krrrrrrj  so  often  heard  as  he  flirts 
his  tail  on  the  haycock  or  smoothly  shaven  face  of  the 
June  meadow  of  New  Jersey  or  Illinois.  And  the  sweet 
and  penetrating  '  tee-ah-tee-ah-tee  '  that  lengthens  out  the 
summer  evenings  at  your  home  are  never  heard  here.  In 
its  place  is  only  a  '  k-chee-ah — wottle-wottle-wottle,'  fuller 
and  richer  in  tone,  as  you  can  notice,  but  to  my  ear 
most  ineffably  stupid  in  meaning." 


32         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"  I  must  say  I  don't  admire  the  words,  though  the 
timbre  is  certainly  very  fine,"  said  Miss  Norton. 

"  The  golden  rays  that  the  yellow-hammer  or  high-holder 
showers  on  the  air  as  he  rises  and  dips  in  his  flight  are 
here  darkened  into  orange;  but  in  all  else  the  plumage  is 
the  same  as  that  of  the  Eastern  bird.  But  the  *  witcha- 
witcha-witcha-witchaj  like  the  distant  whetting  of  a  mow- 
er's scythe,  is  gone,  and  in  its  place  there  is  an  occasional 
*"  ka-wicka,'  sounded  only  once.  The  sweet  low  notes, 
impossible  to  imitate,  which  they  make  in  their  social 
meetings  on  some  high  limb  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  are 
never  heard  here.  The  rich,  fluty  *  cloi-cloi-doi-cloi-doi,' 
rapidly  repeated,  is  also  gone,  and  instead,  there  is  only 
a  dull  '  krrrrj  much  like  the  woodpecker's  tattoo,  only 
made  with  the  throat  instead  of  with  the  bill." 

"You  know  that  sound,  don't  you?"  he  added,  as  a 
"  woooo-woo-woo"  sounded  from  the  timber  along  the 
river. 

"  Oh  yes.  That's  the  dove.  There  go  two  more," 
she  answered,  as  two  birds  with  whistling  wing  and  long 
tails  swept  by  with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow. 

"Yes,"  she  added,  as  they  passed,  "  they  are  just  the 
same  here  as  at  home.  And  what  is  that  beautiful  blue 
bird  on  this  live  oak  ahead  of  us?" 

"  The  prince  of  rascals,  the  bluejay.  He's  not  quite 
so  gaudy  a  scamp  as  his  Eastern  cousin.  His  colors  are 
more  subdued  and  arranged  in  a  style  less  bizarre.  No 
jaunty  top-knot  adorns  his  head,  and  gone  is  the  jang- 
ling note,  the  only  discord  in  the  Eastern  woods.  But 
the  same  mischievous  eye,  you  see,  looks  out  from  be- 
neath his  dark  blue  hood ;  and  you  can  scarce  conceive 


FIRST  GLIMPSE   OF  INLAND   SHOOTING.       33 

the  villainy  hidden  beneath  that  indigo  coat  and  gentle- 
looking  breast.  He  has  the  most  delicate  ear  for  the 
cackle  of  a  hen,  the  acutest  perception  of  the  direction 
of  her  nest,  and  the  neatest  bill  for  drilling  the  shell  and 
absorbing  the  contents.  The  ingenuity  he  exhibits  in 
picking  each  green  apple,  apricot  and  pear,  just  enough 
to  insure  its  destruction,  and  then  skipping  gayly  to  the 
next  one,  so  that  every  meal  he  takes  costs  a  hundred 
apples  or  peaches,  would  do  credit  to  an  ancient  Vandal." 

"Are  you  sure  he  is  not  after  worms?"  suggested 
Norton. 

"  Sh — sh !  don't  breathe  such  a  thing  aloud  here  in  Cali- 
fornia," said  Belville  in  a  serious  and  impressive  whisper. 
"  They  will  take  you  for  that  *  spare-the-birds  '  man  who 
figures  so  regularly  in  the  papers  every  three  months. 
If  they  do,  nothing  in  the  world  could  prevent  the  imme- 
diate elevation  of  your  substantiality  by  a  lasso.  I  could 
myself  cheerfully  assist  at  the  asphyxiation  of  that  indi- 
vidual. He's  worked  so  long  that  he  needs  rest." 


CHAPTER  III. 

COURSING    HARES. 

MINER'S  RANCH  in  El  Cajon  is  now  a  thing  of 
the  past.  But  the  time  was  when  twenty-five 
or  thirty  guests  gathered  around  its  ample  board, 
lounged  under  its  capacious  porches,  and  laughed  at  the 
jokes  of  its  jovial  proprietor.  And  at  the  time  our 
friends  came  to  El  Cajon,  "  Miner's"  was  at  the  climax  of 
its  prosperity.  The  winter  sun  rose  soft  and  clear,  as  it 
nearly  always  does  in  this  fair  climate,  and  the  boarders 
sat  sunning  themselves  on  the  porch  or  in  the  hammocks. 
Nearly  all  were  people  of  culture  and  means,  and  many 
of  a  high  grade  of  education  and  standing  in  society ; 
but  nearly  every  one  was  a  representative  of  some  pop- 
ular ailment,  or  the  wife  or  husband  of  some  one  that 
was.  Here  was  that  ubiquitous  nuisance  whose  "  blood 
don't  circulate,"  the  everlasting  bore  whose  "liver  is  out 
of  order;"  here  also  were  the  damsel  with  "nervous 
debility,"  the  man  whose  "  food  don't  assimilate,"  the 
lady  whose  "blood  is  too  thin,"  the  youth  who  has  "out- 
grown his  strength,"  and  the  rest. 

Though  the  seal  of  the  great  destroyer  was  set  more  or 
less  deeply  upon  many  a  cheek,  and  each  one  could  see 
it  plainly  enough  in  his  neighbor,  scarcely  one  had  con- 
sumption, in  his  own  opinion.  One  had  only  "  a  little 
bronchial  catarrh ;"  another  admitted  "  a  slight  pulmonary 


COURSING  HARES.  35 

difficulty ;"  a  third  confessed  to  "  a  nervous  cough;"  a 
fourth  had  a  cold  he  had  "come  down  to  throw  off;" 
and  a  fashionable  shoddyite  went  so  far  as  to  admit  that 
her  doctor  had  found  "  two  buckles"  on  her  lungs, 
which,  as  Belville  whispered  to  Laura,  accounted  for  the 
"  tightness"  of  the  cough  of  which  she  complained.  But 
little  did  any  of  them  dream  that  the  rocket  was  burned 
out,  and  that  their  life  was  only  the  useless  stick  travel- 
ing a  little  farther  on  with  its  original  momentum. 

And  there  they  nearly  all  sit,  and  sit,  and  sit,  and 
grumble  and  grow  worse.  Two  or  three  take  horses  and 
go  hunting  every  day,  bringing  home  enough  game,  even 
though  they  are  invalids,  to  abundantly  supply  the  table. 
These  are  the  only  ones  that  seem  to  be  recovering. 
And  yet  when  they  advise  the  others  to  get  a  gun 
and  horse,  how  strange  the  answers  !  One  says  it  will 
"use  up  his  strength."  He  looks  upon  strength  as  so 
much  wine  in  a  bottle — every  drop  used  gone  forever. 
Another  says  he  "  gets  all  the  exercise  he  wants  cough- 
ing." Another  says  he  "don't  like  California  game; 
it's  flat)  like  California  fruit"  (he  has  the  fashiona- 
ble "lingo"  about  California  productions  quite  pat). 
Another  says  game  is  "  not  sufficiently  nutritious,"  and 
"  wants  beef."  And  similar  are  the  reasons  of  the  rest. 

Alas  for  them  !  The  rolling  green  plains,  the  flowery 
hills,  the  tree-filled  caftons  of  the  land  are,  for  most  of 
them,  full  of  life  and  health  and  enjoyment.  Amusement 
with  rifle,  gun,  and  long  bow  lies  abundant  on  every 
side,  if  they  would  only  take  it.  But  they  are  lost 
when  they  step  off  the  brick  pavement;  they  have  never 
breathed  anything  but  the  dusty  air  of  business ;  their 


36         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

ears  are  tuned  only  to  the  measure  of  the  dance  or  the 
click  of  the  billiard-ball ;  and  their  eyes  know  no  beauty 
except  in  the  human  face  or  on  the  walls  of  the  draw- 
ing-room or  "  Academy  of  Arts."  What  wonder  that  such 
should  pine  away  with  ennui ',  lose  heart  and  appetite, 
become  morose  and  discontented,  and  grow  worse,  even 
in  the  best  of  climates !  Yet  such  is  the  average  invalid, 
and  such  his  fate,  wherever  he  goes. 

Five  horses  stood  saddled  at  the  gate,  and  two  lithe 
greyhounds,  named  Flirt  and  Flash,  were  racing  about 
in  a  frenzied  anticipation.  In  a  few  moments  Norton 
and  Laura,  Belville  and  Miss  Norton,  with  Miner  on  the 
other  horse,  were  mounted  and  cantering  over  the  heavy 
greensward  of  alfileria,  whose  fern-like  leaves  were 
almost  hidden  in  broad  patches  by  a  wasteful  prodigality 
of  golden  violets,  which,  unlike  the  common  wild  violet, 
are  here  as  fragrant  as  the  garden  variety.  Great  beds 
of  pinks  and  jump-ups  lay  along  the  slopes,  and  over  all 
the  shooting  star,  or  American  cowslip,  hung  its  blue 
and  snowy  bells. 

They  turned  down  along  the  edge  of  the  meadow  by 
the  river  bottom,  and  inside  of  the  outer  line  of  weeds 
that  lined  it,  keeping  their  eyes  open  for  the  four-footed 
game  they  sought. 

u  Hurrah!  there  she  goes!"  yelled  Miner  presently, 
dashing  ahead  as  a  hare  sprang  from  a  clump  of  green 
weeds  and  started  for  the  hills  nearly  half  a  mile  away, 
and  the  two  dogs  burst  from  a  trot  into  a  full  run. 
The  hare  was  some  fifty  yards  ahead  of  the  hounds, 
running  with  a  few  rapid  strokes  of  its  little  feet,  then 
throwing  itself  in  the  air  with  a  lofty  arching  skip.  It 


COURSING  HARES.  37 

carried  its  ears  well  forward  and  danced  along  as  if  it 
feared  no  danger,  its  black  eyes  sparkling  and  its  glossy 
coat  shining  like  that  of  a  deer  in  the  morning  sun. 
But  as  the  dogs  gained  upon  it  its  actions  changed  in 
a  twinkling.  It  laid  back  its  long  ears,  stretched  out  its 
long  body  beyond  its  former  length,  and  skimmed  over 
the  ground  like  a  low-flying  grouse.  The  dogs,  too,  let 
out  an  extra  length,  and  their  long  legs  glimmered 
over  the  checkered  sod  like  wheel-spokes ;  while  the 
horses  settled  down  at  once  to  business,  and  hugged  the 
spangled  carpet  of  the  plain  at  their  keenest  gallop. 

Swiftly  the  hare  scuds  on,  gaining  at  every  jump  for 
over  two  hundred  yards ;  the  violets,  pinks,  and  snowy 
bells  flying  from  the  horses  feet  close  behind  the  dogs; 
Belville  yelling  with  excitement ;  Norton  hatless  and  hold- 
ing to  the  horn  of  the  saddle  for  safety;  Laura  terrified  at 
the  unusal  speed,  but  too  excited  to  drop  behind ;  and 
Miner  and  Eveline,  who  was  a  bold  rider,  tearing 
along  ahead  of  them  all.  Now  the  hare  twists  and 
goes  down  a  slope,  and  the  dogs  begin  to  gain.  Closer 
and  closer  they  come  to  him,  Flirt  ahead  and  Flash  but  a 
yard  behind,  and  fast  the  thundering  hoofs  close  in  be- 
hind the  dogs.  Still  shorter  grows  the  space  between 
dogs  and  hare,  and  Flirt  is  almost  within  a  yard  of  it; 
when,  with  a  dart  as  quick  as  that  of  a  humming-bird,  it 
switches  off  almost  at  a  right  angle,  and  leads  up  a  slope 
to  one  side,  and  heads  again  for  the  river  bottom.  Flash 
nearly  tumbles  over  Flirt  as  she  tries  to  turn,  and  the 
horses  nearly  tumble  over  the  dogs,  while  the  hare,  with 
bobbing  black  tail  and  ears  laid  back,  spins  up  the  slope 
and  vanishes  over  a  rise  of  ground,  just  as  dogs  and 


38        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

horses  get  fairly  headed  in  the  right  direction  and  settle 
down  again  to  work. 

Two  seconds  bring  them  in  sight  of  the  hare,  tearing 
down  the  next  slope  for  the  high  weeds  in  the  river 
bottom,  three  or  four  hundred  yards  away.  Again  the 
violets  and  bluebells  fly  from  beneath  the  rushing  hoofs, 
and  yells  of  triumph  ring  out  on  the  fragrant  air  as 
the  distance  again  shortens  between  hare  and  hounds 
on  the  downhill  run  ;  for  downhill  the  dogs  have  the 
advantage,  and  the  hare  is  tiring,  besides.  Flirt  soon 
closes  in,  and  her  white  teeth  glisten  in  the  sun  as  she 
reaches  out  to  collect  the  personal  assets  of  the  failing 
fugitive.  But  not  yet.  is  he  ready  to  assign,  nor  shall 
Flirt  be  his  assignee.  He  will  run  his  own  business  a 
while  longer  and  go  into  bankruptcy  only  on  his  own 
petition,  and  not  on  that  of  his  eager  creditors.  So,  with 
a  sudden  twist  he  dodges  the  panting  mouth  behind 
him  and  wheels  off  at  a  tangent  to  the  left.  But  Flash, 
not  so  close  this  time  as  before,  loses  little  time  in  turn- 
ing, and,  while  Flirt  is  recovering  herself,  dashes  straight 
ahead  for  the  hare.  Swiftly  he  gains  on  the  weary  run- 
away, but  another  twist  throws  him  off,  while  Flirt,  hav- 
ing to  a  still  greater  degree  the  advantage  that  Flash  just 
had — not  being  too  close — comes  flying  down  behind  in 
a  straight  line  for  the  quarry. 

Now  do  thy  best,  gay  Flirt,  or  thou  art  beaten ! 
Right  well  she  knows  it ;  her  lithe  body  opens  out  an- 
other section  like  a  telescope ;  the  distance  between  her 
and  the  hare  swiftly  shortens ;  yells  again  rise  from  the 
exultant  crowd  behind.  But  all  too  soon  their  glee  and 
cries  of  victory.  For  the  hare,  too,  draws  on  its  last  re- 


COURSING  HARES.  39 

sources,  telescopes  out  still  longer  than  before,  flattens 
itself  to  the  ground  in  a  desperate  burst  of  energy, 
and  in  another  second  the  high  stiff  weeds  of  the  river 
bottom  close  over  it  just  as  the  jaws  of  Flirt  snap  vainly 
behind. 

"  Too  bad !"  exclaimed  Belville,  as  they  reined  up  their 
panting  horses. 

"  Too  good,  /  think,"  said  Laura.  "  What  more  could 
the  death  of  the  poor  thing  that  earned  its  life  so 
well  have  added  to  our  pleasure  ?  I'm  sure  I've  never 
enjoyed  anything  so  much  as  that  race,  even  though  un- 
successful." 

"  I  stand  corrected,"  said  Belville  frankly.  "  Yours  is 
the  true  sentiment.  The  chase  and  its  associations  are 
everything ;  the  mere  bagging  of  the  game  is  nothing. 
That  is  one  reason  why  I  should  enjoy  hunting  with 
the  bow  more  than  with  the  gun.  But  while  I  abomi- 
nate above  all  things  the  monstrous  heresy  that  the 
principal  use  of  game  is  to  eat,  I  must  admit  that  I  am 
so  far  earthly  as  to  have  a  trifling  weakness  for  seeing 
something  overhauled  occasionally." 

"  Flash  don't  seem  to  be  of  much  use  to-day,"  said 
Norton,  looking  at  the  dog,  which  was  lounging  along 
the  open  ground  two  or  three  hundred  yards  to  the  right 
of  the  "  cavalry,"  and  nearly  one  hundred  yards  behind 
their  line,  while  Flirt  was  actively  rummaging  the  weeds 
along  the  edge  of  the  open  ground. 

"  Everything  has  it  uses,"  replied  Miner.  "  An  old  tin 
kettle  may  adorn  a  tail,  if  it  can't  point  a  moral.  And 
even  that  lazy  dog  may  yet  come  handy." 

There  was  a  bustling   noise  in  the  weeds,  a  flicker 


40         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

of  brown  scudding  through  the  thick  mat  of  dark  green, 
and  away  skipped  a  big  hare  over  the  open  plain,  driven 
out  by  Flirt  from  within  the  weeds.  It  headed  for  the 
hills,  six  or  seven  hundred  yards  away. 

"And  now  look  at  Flirt;  what  ails  the  dog?  It  seems 
now  as  if  she  didn't  care  a  fig  for  hares  either,"  cried  one 
of  the  party,  as  she  ran  along  behind  the  hare  on  an 
apathetic  gallop,  losing  ground  at  every  jump,  while  the 
hare,  with  ears  erect  and  with  high  elastic  bounds, 
seemed  to  be  only  playing  in  its  swift  career. 

"  Let  them  manage  it.  They've  hunted  this  ground 
before,"  said  Miner,  as  Belville  in  his  impatience  tried 
to  urge  Flirt  on.  And  before  he  had  fairly  finished  the 
sentence,  a  long-drawn  streak  of  glossy  darkness,  with 
a  slim  tail  projecting  behind,  came  flying  along  the 
ground  from  the  right,  headed  for  a  point  some  distance 
ahead  of  the  hare.  The  hare,  too,  saw  it,  reefed  in  its 
ears,  lengthened  out,  flattened  down  more  to  the  ground, 
and  skimmed  the  violets  at  a  furious  pace.  Flirt  now 
hastened  her  feet  and  traveled  along  quite  briskly,  but 
on  a  line  that  would  carry  her  some  distance  to  the 
left  of  the  hare ;  while  in  the  mean  time  the  two  lines 
that  formed  the  courses  of  the  hare  and  of  Flash  were 
fast  closing  into  the  apex  of  a  long  narrow  "  V."  Too 
much  so  to  suit  Mr.  Hare  ;  for  his  bright  black  eye 
showed  him  that  the  two  lines  might  soon  meet,  and  in 
his  inner  consciousness  he  felt  a  possibility  of  his  line 
merging  in  the  other.  So  he  concluded  to  shift  his 
line  to  more  pleasant  places,  and  darted  off  to  the  left, 
so  as  to  leave  Flash  on  a  straight  line  behind  him. 

Whether  Flirt  had  been  anticipating  some  such  move- 


COURSING  HARES.  41 

ment  or  not  we  will  not  say,  but  in  a  twinkling  she  had 
changed  her  course  and  was  rapidly  flitting  along  the 
ground  on  the  line  of  another  "  V'and  aimed  well  ahead 
of  the  fugutive.  The  idea  of  "  merging"  again  suggested 
itself  to  the  hare,  and  he  wheeled  away  to  the  right  again 
so  as  to  leave  Flirt  behind  him,  while  at  the  movement 
Flash  went  spinning  along  on  another  cut-off.  As  the 
hare  tried  to  evade  this  by  another  twist  he  found  Flirt's 
propinquity  getting  somewhat  annoying,  and  endeavoring 
to  escape  that,  he  found  Flash  also  getting  too  familiar  on 
the  other  side.  So  he  stopped  suddenly  short,  doubled 
on  his  track,  and  turned  directly  back  on  his  course, 
leaving  both  dogs  a  dozen  yards  behind  in  trying  to  turn 
with  him.  Right  in  among  the  clattering  hoofs  of  the 
cavalcade  he  ran,  whipped  unscathed  through  the  medley 
of  legs  as  the  horses  tried  to  check  their  momentum,  and 
by  the  time  the  dogs  had  got  past  the  horses,  there  was 
nothing  in  sight  but  a  distant  bit  of  bobbing  brown,  fast 
fading  toward  the  dim  line  of  weeds. 

"Wasn't  that  splendid!"  exclaimed  both  the  ladies, 
almost  out  of  breath  with  hard  riding. 

"  Well,  I  must  confess  I  would  have  liked  it  better  if 
they  had  caught  him  after  such  a  scientific  maneuver  as 
they  made.  I  like  to  see  brains  successful,"  said  Belville. 

"Well,  so  do  I,"  said  Laura.  "Even  if  it  is  a ''hare 
brain' — for  the  hare  showed  intelligence  too." 

"  It's  very  seldom  a  hare  does  that,"  said  Miner.  "  Not 
once  in  fifty  times.  But  I  must  admit  that  I  like  to  see 
one  get  away  in  that  style." 

"  And  I'll  stick  to  it  that  I  like  to  see  something  caught 
occasionally,"  said  Belville. 


42         RIFLE,  ROD  AND    GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

Norton  was  tired  with  the  hard  riding,  and  so  were 
the  dogs  with  running ;  so  the  riders  dismounted  and  sat 
down  on  a  sunny  bank  of  flowers  to  rest. 

"  You  spoke  of  the  heresy  of  thinking  the  principal 
use  of  game  is  to  eat.  Why  do  you  want  to  catch  it, 
then?"  asked  Laura  of  Belville. 

"  Well,  I  don't,  unless  it  is  done  skillfully.  I  wouldn't 
give  a  cent  to  shoot  at  a  hare  with  a  shot-gun  as  you 
did  yesterday.  I  would  only  shoot  at  one  with  a  rifle, 
and  only  when  running  crosswise  at  that.  Although  I 
cannot  hit  more  than  one  in  three,  I  enjoy  it  far  more  than 
if  it  were  no  trick  to  hit  them  all.  Yet,  at  the  same  time, 
I  do  want  to  hit  one  third  of  them  at  least.  And  so  I 
like  to  see  a  dog  catch  one  occasionally,  though  I  appre- 
ciate a  skillful  escape  still  more." 

"  I  think  all  your  ideas  are  slightly  advanced,"  said 
Miner.  "  I  feel  somewhat  that  way  myself ;  although  I 
must  say  that  a  few  years  of  dry  ranching  makes  the  idea 
of  meat  most  tyrannically  predominant  over  all  finer 
feelings." 

"You  have  a  beautiful  ranch,  I  think,"  said  Miss 
Norton. 

"  Yes  indeed.  It  is  fairly  stuffed  with  beauty.  So 
much  so  that  at  times  I  fear  it  will  burst." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  Laura. 

"  Burst  me,  I  mean.  Beauty  is  a  little  unsubstantial 
for  a  steady  diet.  It's  thinner  nutriment  than  rabbit. 
But  we  interrupted  the  Doctor's  remarks  about  the  uses 
of  game,"  said  Miner. 

"  My  views  are   those  of  the  minority  of  sportsmen," 


COURSING  HARES.  43 

continued  Belville.  "  But  that  minority  is  fast  increasing, 
and  in  a  few  years  will  be  the  majority.  I  think  that 
game  was  made,  first,  to  hunt ;  second,  to  find ;  third, 
to  look  at ;  fourth,  to  shoot  at ;  fifth,  to  hit;  sixth,  and 
last,  to  eat." 

"  That  is  exactly  the  reverse  of  the  common  idea," 
said  Miner. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Belville.  "  And  that  is  why  the  game 
is  being  swept  from  the  land.  It  is  the  idolatrous  hom- 
age that  is  paid  to  the  palate  as  the  principal  and  most 
righteous  claimant  upon  the  game  of  the  country  that 
now  compels  a  man  who  would  seek  the  medicine  of  the 
field  and  stream,  the  best  medicine  in  the  world  for  some 
kinds  of  ailments,  to  go  so  far  from  home  and  friends  to 
find  it.  It  seems  to  be  generally  conceded  that  the 
palate  of  the  man  who  is  too  lazy  or  stupid  to  hunt  his 
own  game  must  be  as  tenderly  cared  for  as  any  of  our 
personal  rights.  And  from  all  this  comes  the  atrocious 
heresy  that  the  first  and  most  important,  instead  of  the 
last  and  worst,  use  of  game  is  to  eat  it.  But  a  better  day 
is  already  dawning." 

"  But  why  has  not  the  man  who  is  unable  to  hunt  as 
good  a  right  to  get  game  in  his  way  as  you  have  in  your 
way  ?"  asked  Miss  Norton. 

"  That  is  the  common  argument,  I  know,  and  it  seems 
very  plausible.  But  the  answer  is  more  than  plausible — 
it  is  undeniable.  There  is  not  game  enough,  and  there 
never  can  be  enough,  for  one  fourth  of  the  people.  It  is 
game  for  a  few,  or  game  for  none — game  under  close 
restrictions,  or  no  game  at  all.  That  is  the  question, 


44         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

and  there  is  no  avoiding  it.     With  other  animal  food  it 
is  different.     Fish  can  be  bred,  but  game  cannot." 

By  this  time  the  party  were  well  rested  and  ready  to 
remount  and  return  to  the  house,  which  they  reached  in 
time  for  dinner. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  VALLEY    QUAIL  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

EARLY  in  the  morning  of  the  next  hunting  day 
the  enthusiastic  quartet  of  Nimrods  and  Dianas 
were  seated  in  their  familiar  vehicle,  appropriately  armed 
for  the  sport  they  were  after.  In  a  country  so  full 
of  game,  they  had  not  driven  far  when  they  suddenly 
noticed  dark  objects  energetically  darting  and  gliding 
swiftly  over  the  emerald-dotted  ground,  as  the  wagon 
rolled  into  a  little  valley  that  lay  between  two  low  ranges  of 
hills.  See  how  they  vanish  down  the  green  vistas  among 
the  sycamores,  skim  the  sod  in  the  arcades  of  elders,  and 
dart  among  the  bushes  and  up  the  velvet  slopes  that  lead 
toward  the  hills.  Here,  there,  and  all  over,  by  twos, 
fours,  dozens,  and  scores,  they-dodged,  rustled,  and  disap- 
peared from  view.  And  look  at  old  Prince,  who  hangs 
fifty  or  sixty  yards  behind  the  wagon,  with  nose  high  up- 
raised, tail  nearly  rigid,  and  countenance  as  serious  as 
that  of  an  incubating  owl,  waddling  along  as  if  the  pinks 
and  violets  were  New  Jersey  sand-burrs.  What  sound  is 
this  that  now  rings  from  the  hillside,  shining  with  the 
orange  glow  of  innumerable  poppies,  where  phacelias 
are  just  lighting  their  soft  purple  lamps  of  spring,  and 
the  orthocarpus  is  kindling  its  crimson  fire  along  the 
ground,  where  the  olive  green  of  the  ramiria  is  lovingly 
embraced  by  the  rich  pink  of  the  wild  pea,  and  the  dark, 


46         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

glossy  green  of  the -sumac  is  twined  with  the  lighter 
green  leaves  and  the  white  showery  blossoms  of  the 
chilicayote,  or  the  golden  bells  of  the  wild  honeysuckle  ? 
It  sounds  like  "  o-yfo-o,  O-///-G,  o-/*/-o,"  o->fo-o,  blown  from 
a  silver  flute.  And  it  is  answered  from  the  opposite 
hills,  from  up  the  valley,  and  from  all  sides,  until  the 
whole  region  is  filled  with  calls  for  "  Ohio." 

"  Now,"  said  Belville,  as  he  tied  the  horses,  "  if  you 
will  please  follow  me  you  will  see  something  quite  novel, 
and  a  sight  that  few  Eastern  people  would  believe  in 
unless  they  saw  it.  You  need  not  try  to  follow  me  all 
the  time ;  but  after  I  first  start  the  game,  sit  down  on  a 
rock  until  I  get  them  scattered." 

"  They  followed  him  as  he  led  the  way  some  fifty  yards 
up  the  sloping  hillside,  when  suddenly  from  the  ramiria 
and  wild  buckwheat,  a  few  yards  ahead,  came  a  sharp 
metallic-toned  "  whit-whit,  whit-whit"  followed  by  a  muf- 
fled  "  k-wook  k-wookook,  k-ivook  k-wookook,  kwook  k-wook, 
k-wookook"  from  dozens  of  little  throats.  To  the  sur- 
prise of  the  rest,  Belville  tied  Prince  to  a  bush,  beside 
which  the  dog  was  already  standing  like  a  statue. 

"In  the  East,"  he  explained,  "a  dog  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  hunt  quails  with  any  success  at  all,  but  here 
they  run  so  fast  that  they  will  spoil  a  dog,  unless  he  is 
kept  back  until  they  are  thoroughly  scattered  and  scared, 
so  as  to  make  them  hide  and  lie  closely.  In  the  upper 
part  of  the  State  they  often  lie  quite  well,  but  here  they 
will  not  until  thoroughly  scared  and  hustled.  One  can 
get  here  all  the  shooting  he  needs  without  any  dog  at  all ; 
but  to  see  the  dog  work  js  for  me  nearly  one  half  of  the 
pleasure,  although  these  birds  are  so  plenty  and  so  strong 


THE    VALLEY  QUAIL   OF  CALIFORNIA.  47 

of  scent  that  it  does  not  call  for  as  much  care  on  a  dog's 
part  to  find  them  as  it  does  to  find  the  Eastern  bird." 

Meanwhile  the  cries  of  "  whit-whit "  and  "  k-wook-ook 
k-wook-ook"  had  ceased.  But  after  rapidly  walking  some 
fifty  yards  farther,  they  were  heard  again.  At  this,  Bel- 
ville,  instead  of  going  slowly  or  waiting  to  see  something, 
started  on  the  full  run  toward  the  sound. 

What  a  change  !  A  dark  blue  cloud  roared  upward 
from  the  low  brush  and  flowers  ahead  of  Belville,  but 
out  of  shot,  swept  swiftly  over  some  two  hundred  yards 
of  space,  and  sank  from  sight  in  the  shrubbery.  Belville 
fired  both  barrels  of  his  gun,  but  nothing  "  tarried." 

"  I  could  have  hit  so  big  a  mark  myself,"  said  Laura 
to  Norton. 

"  I  shot  at  a  bigger  mark  than  you  thought,  and  hit  it 
— space"  said  Belville,  who  had  overheard  her.  "  I  don't 
want  to  stop  now  to  pick  up  any,  even  if  they  should  rise 
within  shot." 

He  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  started  again  on  a 
run  to  the  place  where  the  quail  had  settled  in  the  low 
bushes.  Before  he  reached  it  the  swarming  cloud 
again  rose  well  out  of  shot,  and  thundered  along  the 
ground ;  but  this  time  it  was  more  widely  scattered  than 
before.  As  Belville  fired  his  gun  over  the  flock  it  broke 
still  more,  and  settled  some  two  hundred  yards  farther 
on,  but  this  time  scattered  over  a  circle  of  nearly  one 
hundred  yards  in  diameter.  Again  he  charged,  loading 
as  he  went ;  again  the  cloud  rose  and  broke  at  the  first 
shot  into  two  or  three  smaller  flocks,  and  these  in  turn 
broke  up  at  the  report  of  the  second  barrel ;  and  in 
widely  scattered  bands  of  from  five  to  twenty  or  thirty, 


48        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

with  some  single  birds  and  pairs,  they  went  whizzing 
here  and  there,  and  lit  all  over  five  or  six  acres  of  rolling 
hills  some  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  ahead. 

"  Now  you  can  come  on,"  called  Belville  to  the  rest  of 
his  party. 

"  I  guess  they  will  lie  now,"  he  added,  as  they  came 
up.  t:  You  see,  a  person  who  did  not  know  how  to  handle 
these  birds  would  have  hard  work  to  get  good  shooting. 
Even  the  experienced  Eastern  sportsman  is  apt  to  vote 
them  a  fraud  at  the  first  interview  or  so.  Some- 
times, especially  in  summer  or  fall,  one  can  get  close 
enough  for  a  shot  into  the  flock.  But  now  nearly  all 
the  flocks  are  so  wild  that  the  birds  must  be  taken  singly 
and  on  the  wing,  as  indeed  all  birds  should  be  taken  for 
good  sport.  And  this  can  be  done  only  by  getting  them 
well  scattered  and  scared,  so  that  they  will  lie  and  hide." 

They  had  been  walking  ahead  while  they  conversed ; 
but  now  they  were  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  whizzing 
and  a  "chip-chip-chip"  and  looking  up  saw  a  bluish  bird 
that  had  started  from  a  twining  creeper  with  scarlet  trum- 
pets fly  rapidly  off.  From  the  bushes  all  around  a  dozen 
swift-whirling  companions  rose,  with  mottled  waistcoats 
of  white  and  cinnamon  flashing  below  dark  gray-blue 
coats,  little  black  and  white  heads,  black  throats  within 
white  collars,  and  long  jaunty  black  plumes  hanging  for- 
ward over  their  bills,  all  in  clear  relief  against  the  horizon, 
some  darting  straight  ahead  with  defiant  "chip-chip-chip" 
others  twisting  to  either  side. 

Belville's  gun  was  quickly  at  his  shoulder;  a  puff  of 
feathers  flew  at  the  report,  and  the  stricken  bird  went 
plunging  downward  amid  the  buzz  of  his  companions  on 


THE    VALLEY  QUAIL    OF  CALIFORNIA.  49 

every  side  and  the  roar  of  hundreds  more  beyond.  Soon 
all  were  down  again,  covering  the  slopes  and  the  heads  of 
the  little  ravines  over  a  space  about  two  hundred  yards 
in  diameter. 

"  Pretty  wild,"  said  Belville,  "  but  I  guess  they  will 
be  sure  to  lie  now." 

Meanwhile,  brilliant  passages  of  canine  melody  were 
coming  from  the  bush  where  Prince  had  been  tied,  but 
no  attention  was  paid  to  them. 

"  Now,  Norton,"  said  Belville,  "  you  may  try  your 
gun,  and  Miss  Wilbur  may  take  mine,  and  I  will  keep 
in  the  background  for  a  while  and  go  after  Prince." 

Norton  and  Laura  moved  on. a  few  yards,  and  half  a 
dozen  birds,  each  with  a  saucy  " chip-chip-chip"  sprang 
whizzing  from  the  blooming  ground  about  ten  feet  in 
front  of  them.  One  curled  around  Norton's  head  with 
his  mottled  breast  flashing  in  the  sun,  while  the  thunder 
and  smoke  of  Norton's  gun  roared  and  rolled  at  a  safe 
distance  in  his  rear.  Laura  had  watched  the  birds  be- 
tween the  hammers  of  her  gun  until  a  dozen  rose  at  the 
sound  of  Norton's  first  barrel.  When  she  turned  her 
attention  to  them,  they  were  ensconced  in  safety  in  the 
green  pockets  of  a  little  ravine  two  hundred  yards  away. 

"  You're  too  slow,  Laura.     You  must  shoot  qui — " 

Whizz  !  buzz !  "  chip-chip-chip  /"  went  three  or  four 
more,  and  bang!  went  Norton's  second  barrel  before  he' 
fairly  saw  anything.  Laura,  however,  improved  upon 
l.er  first  attempt  so  far  as  to  fire  just  as  they  were  about 
to  light  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away. 

"  Too  slow  yet,  Laura,"  he  said,  and  then  in  turn 
again  seriously  impaired  the  symmetry  of  a  bursting 


50         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

plume  of  the  yucca,  as  another  pair  of  birds  darted  from 
the  farther  side  of  it. 

"  It  seems  about  as  effective  as  your  shooting,"  she 
replied,  with  a  light  laugh. 

"  Well,  I  was  exci— " 

Again  he  was  interrupted  by  the  obstreperous  wings 
and  chirping  impudence  of  twenty  or  more  birds  burst- 
ing from  every  shrub,  within  five  steps  of  the  spot  he 
had  reached  in  advancing.  His  gun  went  off  again 
before  he  knew  it,  and  the  second  barrel  tunneled  the 
smoke  of  the  first ;  while  Laura  pointed  her  gun  from 
one  bird  to  another,  unable  to  decide  which  to  fire  at, 
until  they  lit  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away. 

The  wild  medley  of  cries  and  whizzing  wings  now 
increased  as  they  advanced  farther  into  the  center  of 
the  ground  where  the  flock  had  lit.  On  every  side,  from 
almost  every  bush,  before  and  after  the  crack  of  the  gun, 
while  with  trembling  hands  they  hurried  fresh  cartridges 
into  the  heated  chambers,  birds  were  darting,  whizzing, 
calling,  buzzing,  going  up  hill,  down  hill,  crossing, 
quartering,  or  curling  around  behind  them ;  some  scud- 
ding like  hares  a  few  yards  along  the  ground  before 
bursting  into  flight ;  others  rising  almost  perpendicularly 
a  few  feet  before  spinning  away;  others  still  shooting 
off  on  a  low  upward  slant  from  the  ground,  but  all  de- 
parting with  equal  speed. 

The  guns  flamed  and  roared.  Miss  Norton  now  took 
the  gun  from  Laura,  and  succeeded  in  improving  on  the 
latter's  shooting  by  firing  about  as  the  birds  passed  the 
one-hundredth  yard  instead  of  the  hundred  and  fif- 
tieth ;  while  Norton  scattered  leaves  of  green,  pink, 


THE    VALLEY  QUAIL   OF  CALIFORNIA.  51 

purple,  orange,  crimson,  or  gold  behind  the  birds  before 
they  fairly  cleared  the  cover. 

Hurrah  !  At  last  a  bird  whirls  over  at  the  flash  of 
his  gun  !  He  runs  quickly ;  it  is  only  a  few  feet  away, 
and  he  is  soon  there,  just  in  time  to  see  a  dark  object 
flash  along  the  gaudy  earth  and  disappear  in  a  twink- 
ling. You  must  drop  them  dead,  Norton;  for  you  might 
as  well  try  to  catch  a  flash  of  lightning  as  a  wounded 
quail  that  has  its  legs  all  right. 

"  I'm  completely  demoralized,"  said  Norton,  as  Bel- 
ville  came  up,  with  Prince  walking  stiff-legged  behind 
him.  "  Do  you  think  such  exercise  good  for  me,  Doc- 
tor ?  I'm  all  out  of  breath,"  he  added,  wiping  his  brow, 
which  for  the  first  time  in  many  a  month  was  wet  with 
healthful  perspiration.  His  face  glowed  with  unwonted 
color,  his  breath  came  fast,  and  his  heart  throbbed  with 
an  energy  long  unknown  to  it. 

"  So  long  as  it  comes  only  from  pleasant  excitement, 
it  is  the  best  medicine  you  could  have.  You  will  eat 
more  and  digest  better  to-day  when  we  go  back  to  the 
house  than  you  have  done  for  a  long  time.  If  it  were 
work  or  alarm  that  wearied  or  excited  you,  it  would  be 
vastly  different.  But,  you  see,  you  have  walked  scarcely 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  that  very  slowly.  I  did  all  the 
work.  You  have  had  only  the  excitement  and  amuse- 
ment, mixed  with  just  exercise  enough.  And  that  is  all 
an  invalid  should  have — little  work,  much  amusement. 
You  should  never  venture  out  hunting  without  a  buggy 
or  saddle-horse,  and  should  never  hunt  these  quails 
without  a  companion  to  break  and  scatter  the  flock; 
which  is  sometimes  quite  a  lively  task,  though  it  is  not 


52         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

always  necessary  to  run  as  I  did.  You  can  often  scatter 
them  on  horseback.  Now  you  can  sit  down  on  this 
stone  and  I  will  take  a  turn." 

Belville  again  tied  Prince  to  a  bush,  and  went  on 
alone,  while  the  rest  remained  behind  and  watched  him. 
The  bewildering  intensity  of  the  rush  and  buzz  in 
which  Norton  had  become  so  demoralized  was  over. 
But  birds  were  rising  still  at  almost  every  step  as  Bel- 
ville went  on,  and  somber  lines  of  blue  were  spinning 
through  the  air  all  the  time,  a  fresh  bird  starting  before 
the  previous  one  disappeared. 

Belville,  though  a  good  shot,  was  out  of  practice ; 
and  however  wella  person  may  understand  hunting  and 
shooting,  and  however  well  he  may  shoot  with  slower 
game,  he  must  keep  the  very  highest  polish  on  his  skill 
if  he  would  successfully  trip  these  dark,  swift-flying 
fellows.  For,  remember  that  they  rise  at  more  than  six 
or  seren  yards,  and  are  not  pointed  by  a  dog  in  the 
method  of  hunting  now  described.  They  stand  shot 
well,  too,  and  they  will  keep  up  like  hope  in  the  bosom 
of  a  spinster.  No  more  gamey  bird  flies  than  the  Cali- 
fornia quail,  and  he  dies  game  to  the  last.  Unless  fairly 
struck  with  the  center  of  the  charge,  and  that  too  at 
close  distance,  they  are  quite  apt  to  win  the  victory  even 
over  the  tremendous  odds  of  the  double  gun  in  skillful 
hands.  And  though  Belville  had  long  hunted  quails, 
he  had  not  yet  learned  what  it  takes  many  so  long  to 
learn — to  load  for  these  quail  with  very  fine  shot,  not 
less  than  No.  10,  and  heavy  charges  of  powder ;  so  that 
the  air  in  the  bird's  course  shall  be  filled  with  flying 
missiles,  all  at  the  highest  attainable  velocity. 


THE    VALLEY  QUAIL   OF  CALIFORNIA.  53 

And  therefore  it  was  that,  as  Belville  went  on  firing 
at  every  eight  or  ten  steps,  many  birds  spun  away,  leav- 
ing the  spectators  gazing  in  wonder  at  the  cloud  of 
feathers  floating  back  on  the  air.  Some  went  for  two 
hundred  yards  or  more  zig-zagging  up  and  down  in  alter- 
nate yielding  to  death  and  victory  over  it,  and  finally 
descended  with  a  plunge  and  a  bounce  upon  the 
ground.  Others  towered  swiftly  upward  with  their  gay 
plumes  in  sharp  relief  against  the  sky,  set  their  little 
wings  for  a  moment,  and  descended  with  a  whirl  down 
the  side  of  a  ravine,  where  it  would  bother  one  to  find 
them ;  or,  if  there  were  much  prickly-pear  or  other  cactus 
convenient,  they  seemed  to  take  especial  care  to  select 
an  impenetrable  clump  of  it  for  their  last  resting-place. 
Some  ran  into  clumps  of  cactus  with  their,  last  breath, 
sat  coolly  down  in  it  just  beyond  reach,  and,  while  the 
little  crested  heads  drooped  in  death,  cast  on  the  hunter 
a  look  that  said,  as  plainly  as  words :  "  No,  you  don't, 
Mr.  Smarty."  Others  descended  out  of  a  thick  shower 
of  feathers,  and,  recovering,  went  glimmering  through 
the  bushes  on  foot  at  a  speed  Belville  could  scarcely 
follow,  even  on  open  ground.  There  were  some  that 
unloaded  a  handful  of  feathers  at  the  crack  of  the  gun, 
and  seemed  to  travel  all  the  easier  for  it.  And  even 
when  killed  they  kicked,  fluttered,  bounced,  and  rolled 
along  the  ground  and  down  the  slopes,  as  if  determined 
not  to  yield;  and  one  fluttered  out  of  his  captor's  very 
pocket  and  went  towering  upward,  after  he  was  thought 
to  be  dead. 

Quite  as  remarkable  as  anything  about  the  practiced 
quail-shot  of  Southern  California  is  his  skill  in  picking 


54         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA, 

up  dead  birds.  Owing  to  the  confusion,  the  swift  run- 
ning of  the  birds,  the  excitement — often  too  much  for  a 
dog  to  stand — and  the  frequent  lack  of  water,  without 
which  on  a  warm  day  a  dog  can  do  little  work,  the  quail- 
hunter  of  this  section  often  does  not  use  a  dog  even  to 
retrieve  dead  birds,  but  prefers  to  pick  them  up  as  well  as 
find  them  himself.  Well  developed  must  be  his  bump 
of  locality,  keen  his  eye,  and  quick  his  judgment,  or 
else  in  the  maze  of  green,  yellow,  red,  blue,  white,  and 
pink,  with  birds  buzzing  and  "  chip-ing  "  on  every  side, 
and  with  no  time  to  lose,  he  will  never  pick  up  two 
thirds  of  the  birds  he  kills.  But  Belville  had  shot  many 
a  quail  before  in  this  county,  and  whenever  a  bird  fell 
he  went  straight  to  the  spot  where  it  was. 

Suddenly. he  stopped,  came  back  to  the  party,  and. 
said  :  "  It  is  too  bad  to  cripple  so  many.  I'd  rather  not 
shoot  at  all.  But  I've  got  a  little  slow  from  being  out  of 
practice  and  let  them  get  too  far  off  before  shooting.  It 
is  almost  time  to  let  Prince  loose,  anyhow.  Perhaps,  now, 
you  think  there  are  no  more  birds  on  this  ground  that 
you  have  been  over." 

"  I  don't  see  how  there  can  be,  after  all  that  got  out  of 
it,"  said  Norton. 

"  Well,  we'll  inspect  it.  We  will  go  around  to  the  lee- 
ward of  it,  so  as  to  have  the  dog's  nose  against  the  wind." 

Prince  suspended  the  few  last  bars  of  the  variations  he 
was  brilliantly  improvizing  upon  his  original  touching 
theme,  and  when  he  was  untied  his  tail  nearly  thrashed 
his  sides  with  joy.  His  master  made  him  march  behind 
until  hs  reached  the  windward  side  of  the  ground  where 
the  birds  had  been  first  thoroughly  scattered,  and  then, 


THE    VALLEY  QUAIL   OF  CALIFORNIA.          55 

with  the  words  "Hie  on!  "sent  him  out  ahead.  With 
nose  nearly  even  with  the  general  level  of  the  bushes,  and 
lashing  his  tail,  he  threaded  the  cover  with  the  ease  of  a 
snake.  Scarcely  had  he  wound  his  way  from  side  to 
side  for  fifty  yards,  when  his  tail  began  to  slacken  speed. 
His  legs  improved  upon  the  example  of  his  tail,  and  his 
tail  set  the  legs  a  still  better  example ;  the  rivalry  con- 
tinuing until  the  whole  animal  was  anchored  like  a 
rock. 

As  the  hunters  came  up  beside  him,  he  turned  his  head 
a  bit  and  cast  an  inquiring  and  anxious  eye  upon  his 
master,  his  nose  twitched  a  little  at  the  corners  of  its 
channels,  his  chops  seemed  fairly  to  water  with  expecta- 
tion, and  his  tail  quivered  faintly  at  the  tip  with  the  effort 
to  hold  it  rigid. 

"  You  take  first  shot  now.  The  bird  is  not  over  ten 
feet  from  his  nose,  probably  in  that  little  bush,"  said  Bel- 
ville. 

Norton's  heart  suddenly  felt  like  a  shuttle  between  his 
hair  antf  his  boots.  But  he  advanced,  smiling  and  confi- 
dent, into  the  arena.  When  one  step  ahead  of  Prince,  he 
heard  a  quick  rustle  in  a  bush  of  ramiria,  a  defiant  "  chip- 
chip-chip-chip"  a  dark  flash  was  dimly  seen  along  the 
ground  through  the  variegated  undergrowth,  and  a  quail 
suddenly  burst  into  flight,  with  Norton's  shot  mowing  the 
scarlet  bells  from  a  creeping  vine  twined  around  a  buck- 
wheat bush  just  behind  it.  But  before  the  swift-scudding 
streak  had  lengthened  another  yard  ahead,  Belville's  gun 
came  up,  and  as  the  flame  and  smoke  leaped  out,  a  puff 
of  feathers  appeared  to  take  the  place  of  the  bird.  Prince 
lay  down  until  the  guns  were  loaded,  and  then  at  the  word 


56          RIFLE,  ROD  AND  GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

walked  in,  picked  up  the  bird  by  the  wing  and  brought 
it  to  his  master. 

How  unlike  any  Eastern  game-bird  is  this  odd  little 
combination  of  bluish  slate,  black,  cinnamon,  and  white, 
with  its  long  natty  black  plume !  Yet  the  short,  thick, 
curved  bill,  the  full  swelling  breast,  and  graceful  form 
would  all  show  it  to  be  unmistakably  a  quail,  even  if  we 
had  not  witnessed  its  gamey  behavior.  Who  that  has 
not  seen  for  himself  could  realize  the  great  numbers 
in  which  the  birds  are  often  found,  and  the  brain-befud- 
dling extravagance  of  their  whizzing  presence,  when  one 
is  in  the  midst  of  a  large,  scattered  flock  ?  And  yet, 
if  the  reader  will  pause  and  reflect  for  a  moment,  he  will 
see  that  what  appears  like  a  "  California  yarn"  of  stupen- 
dous size  may  be  even  below  the  actual  truth.  Consider 
that  these  birds  are  far  beyond  the  orbit  of  the  market- 
shooters,  the  "  big-bag"  louts  often  miscalled  sportsmen, 
and  the  netter  and  trapper ;  that  they  do  not  suffer  from 
cold  winters  or  wet  breeding-seasons,  the  "  dry  year" 
only  suspending  their  breeding  without  destroying  the 
old  birds.  Remember,  too,  that  in  the  breeding  season 
they  are  equally  at  home  in  the  garden  or  the  wildest 
canon,  the  depths  of  the  ravine  or  the  high  hill-top; 
equally  happy  among  rocks  or  brush,  along  steep  hill- 
sides or  in  the  long  grass  or  tangled  underbrush  of  river 
and  creek  bottoms.  In  timber  or  out  of  timber,  by  water 
or  miles  from  water,  four  thousand  feet  or  one  foot 
above  sea-level,  all  to  them  are  the  same.  Then  remem- 
ber that  they  raise  twelve  or  fifteen  young,  and  some- 
times nest  twice  in  a  season ;  that  in  the  fall  the  separate 
bevies  run  together  and  form  in  packs  like  pinnated 


THE    VALLEY  QUAIL   OF  CALIFORNIA.  57 

grouse ;  and  that  even  these  packs  sometimes  run  together. 
So  that  sometimes  all  the  birds  bred  on  one,  two,  or  three 
thousand  acres  of  ground,  or  even  more,  may  be  found 
in  a  single  band ;  and  when  thus  banded  they  are  nearly 
always  found  in  the  little  valleys,  and  no  longer  in  the 
hills  where  most  of  them  were  bred. 

The  shooting  soon  changed  character  after  Prince  was 
introduced.  Instead  of  a  bird  in  almost  every  bush 
there  were  now  not  more  than  one  in  fifteen  or  twenty 
yards.  But  the  birds  lay  much  closer  than  before,  and 
the  shooting  was  more  like  Eastern  quail  or  pinnated- 
grouse  shooting.  Old  Prince  wound  to  and  fro  on  a  slow 
trot,  with  his  head  and  nose  plainly  visible  above  the 
brush.  Every  few  minutes  he  stopped  and  stood,  a  statue 
such  as  the  sculptor's  art  never  yet  portrayed,  as  his  deli- 
cate nose  detected,  by  that  subtle  scent  unknown  to  man^ 
when  he  approached  some  little  plumed  rogue  ensconced 
in  the  dense  wealth  of  flower-twined  ramiria,  sage,  buck- 
wheat, or  sumac,  unconscious  of  being  scented.  But  though 
it  is  far  easier  to  shoot  when  one  knows  exactly  whence 
the  bird  will  spring,  they  were  still  far  too  quick  for 
the  tyro.  And  though  Belville  gave  them  the  first  shot 
every  time,  neither  Norton,  with  his  nervous  expedition 
in  unloading,  nor  the  ladies,  with  their  dilatory  fumbling 
of  the  gun  until  the  bird  was  gone,  could  lower  the  nod- 
ding plume  of  a  single  one.  But  Belville  sent  them  whirl- 
ing at  nearly  every  shot,  and  in  a  short  time  had  a  bagful. 

"  I  have  enough  now,"  he  said,  "  but  if  you  don't  feel 
too  tired  you  can  keep  on  and  practice.  We  can  find 
birds  at  this  rate  for  two  or  three  hours  yet,  and  a  man 


58          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA, 

low  enough  down  to  shoot  for  count  could  kill  over   a 
hundred  yet  before  night." 

They  were  all  ready  to  leave  off  the  sport,  however, 
both  Norton  and  the  ladies  feeling  somewhat  wearied 
with  exercise  and  excitement,  and  regaining  their  wagon 
they  drove  gayly  back. 


CHAPTER  V 

GOOSE  CAVALRY — DUCKS  AND  QUAIL. 

r  I  ^HREE  or  four  miles  above  Miner's  is  a  small 
A  laguna,  with  a  bank  some  twenty  feet  high  on  one 
side  and  open  flats  on  the  other  side  and  at  each  end. 
This  was  known  to  Belville  as  a  capital  hunting-ground ; 
and,  desirous  of  taking  his  friends  there,  he  got  them 
started  at  an  early  day.  As  they  drove  up  in  sight  of 
the  laguna,  its  smooth  face  was  seen  to  be  dotted  with 
small  dark  bodies. 

"  Pretty  liberally  sprinkled  with  mud-hens,"  said  Bel- 
ville ;  "  still  there  are  some  ducks  there.  And,  as  sure  as  I 
live,  there  is  a  flock  of  geese  on  that  flat !"  he  added, 
pointing  to  a  distant  line  of  dark  gray  birds  standing  on 
the  green  sod  across  the  pond.  "  If  I  can  borrow  the 
horse  of  that  fellow  I'll  try  a  charge  on  them.  It's  the 
only  way  to  get  a  shot." 

So  saying,  he  hailed  a  young  Mexican  who  was  com- 
ing behind  them  on  horseback,  and,  pointing  to  the 
geese,  asked  him  in  villainous  Spanish  to  lend  him  the 
horse. 

The  Mexican  dismounted  with  a  smile,  perhaps  at  the 
Spanish,  perhaps  at  the  geese,  possibly  at  neither.  We 
shall  see.  Belville  mounted  and  ambled  down  to  within 
two  hundred  yards  of  the  geese,  on  the  windward  side. 
Then,  on  a  gentle  canter,  he  rode  on  a,  slanting  course 


60          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

toward  one  side  of  the  flock.  He  did  not  look  at  them 
at  all  until  he  got  within  about  one  hundred  yards,  when 
he  suddenly  wheeled  the  horse  and  charged  directly  at 
them  on  a  full  run.  They  waddled  and  looked,  and  looked 
and  waddled,  until  the  "cavalry"  got  within  sixty  yards, 
when  they  concluded  it  was  about  time  to  clear  the 
track.  Being  compelled,  however,  to  rise  against  the 
wind — geese  can  rise  down  wind,  but  prefer  up  wind — 
the  cavalry,  in  its  rapid  career,  was  within  thirty-five 
yards  before  the  heavy  birds  got  fairly  started  from  the 
ground.  The  confused  bustling  huddle  of  black  necks, 
white  collars,  dark  gray  backs,  together  with  the  sound 
of  heavily  beating  wings  and  the  rapidly  recurring  "  onk- 
k-wonk — onk-wonk — honk — fcwonk-onk"  caused  the  horse, 
a  mere  colt,  to  sheer  a  little.  But  the  target  was  so 
large  that  a  snap-shot,  the  only  kind  possible  from  a  run- 
ning horse,  could  hardly  miss  it,  and  with  the  report  of 
the  first  barrel  two  geese  sunk  heavily  to  the  sod. 

So  did  Belville  at  about  the  same  instant.  As  though 
a  keg  of  powder  had  exploded  beneath  him  he  left  the 
saddle,  as  the  horse,  springing  high  in  air,  struck  ground 
stiff-legged  and  with  arching  back.  Belville  sat  for  a 
moment,  half  dazed  by  the  jar,  but  finding  no  bones 
broken,  picked  himself  up,  took  an  affectionate  gaze  at 
his  swiftly  retiring  charger,  and  indulged  in  some  highly 
philosophical  observations  upon  mustangs. and  their  skill 
in  the  art  of  "bucking." 

He  did  not  smile  very  much  as  he  approached  the" 
wagon  and  thanked  the  owner  of  the  horse.  But  the 
owner  did — a  smile  fully  as  deep  as  politeness  demanded ; 
then  he  borrowed  a  bunch  of  matches  and  some  tobacco 


GOOSE   CAVALRY— DUCKS  AND   QUAIL.          61 

of  Belville,  and  bade  him  good-by  in  a  tone  and  with  a 
smile  that  said,  as  plainly  as  words,  "  If  my  horse  can  be 
of  any  service  to  you  next  time,  he  is  entirely  yours." 

At  one  end  of  the  pond  a  little  arm  ran  up  containing 
a  few  bunches  of  rushes,  on  the  bank  of  which  one  of 
Miner's  boarders  had  built  a  little  hut  of  brush  close  by 
the  edge — a  place  where  many  a  duck  had  been  shot  by 
a  lady. 

"  Now  if  one  of  the  ladies  will  go  and  sit  in  that  little 
blind  and  wait,  patient  and  motionless,  until  they  light 
close  enough,"  said  Belville,  "I  will  go  and  drive  up 
some  ducks.  And  you,  Mr.  Norton,  I  will  drop  over 
there  between  this  pond  and  that  other  little  one  beyond. 
Then  do  you  please  lie  flat  on  your  back  in  that  little 
gully,  and  don't  move  until  the  ducks  get  right  over  you. 

Laura  took  the  blind  and  Miss  Norton  remained  in  the 
wagon.  A  number  of  flocks  of  ducks  had  been  started 
on  the  wing  by  Belville 's  shot  at  the  geese,  but  had  set- 
tled again  at  the  upper  end  of  the  pond.  As  the  wagon 
drove  along  the  shore  they  rose,  some  mounting  high  at 
once,  others  skimming  low  for  some  distance,  but  all  in 
one  flapping,  quacking,  squealing  mob.  In  a  few  seconds 
they  were  divided  off  into  flocks.  The  big  mallards 
with  long  projecting  green  necks  and  heads,  cinnamon 
breasts,  and  whitish-gray  "  underclothes"  swung  high  in 
air  and  marched  away.  The  sprigtail  trailed  for  a  few 
moments  his  plumed  rudders  along  the  sky,  and  left  for 
more  retired  parts.  But  the  widgeon  in  large  flocks 
whistled  their  way  on  high  a  few  times  around  the  pond, 
and  then,  setting  their  wings,  went  hissing  down  the  air 
toward  the  little  pond  beyond  the  big  one. 


62        RIFLE,   ROD  AND    GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

As  they  passed  over  where  Norton  lay,  they  shot 
upward  at  the  flame  of  his  gun  as  if  they  had  struck  an 
incline  of  lubricated  ice ;  but  one  at  the  rear  of  the 
flock  eliminated  two  or  three  feathers  and  started 
downward  at  about  the  same  angle  the  others  took  in 
going  up.  Down  to  within  three  feet  of  the  ground  he 
came,  then  rose  again,  gyrated,  twisted  and  alighted  for 
repairs,  just  as  Norton  again  took  a  hand  in  and  com- 
posed his  anxiety  with  the  second  barrel. 

Meanwhile  a  flock  of  teal,  after  scudding  up  and 
down  the  pond  a  few  times  and  executing  some  hand- 
some curves  at  each  end,  wheeled  into  the  arm  of  the 
pond  where  Laura  was  posted,  and  settled  in  the  water 
about  thirty  yards  from  her  little  hut.  She  could  see 
their  little  beaded  eyes,  the  green  spots  on  the  wings  of 
the  gray  teal,  and  the  blue  bands  on  the  wings  of  the 
cinnamon  teal,  all  shining  in  the  sun,  and  she  saw  them 
wiggle  their  tails,  lower  their  black  bills,  and  swim 
closer  together.  She  trembled  with  anxiety  and  exulta- 
tion as  the  thought  crossed  her  mind  that  she  might  get 
them  all  at  one  shot.  And  as  she  put  the  gun  through 
a  little  opening  and  fired  too  high,  as  almost  every  tyro 
will  do  at  such  times,  she  never  dreamed  of  the  possi- 
bility of  getting  less  than  half.  But  when  the  smoke 
cleared  away  she  saw  the  rear  of  the  flock  just  swinging 
at  a  rapid  pace  around  a  bunch  of  rushes,  and  the  water 
where  they  had  sat  bore  not  a  single  feather. 

Norton  got  back  into  his  place  just  as  a  flock  of 
spoon-bills  came  curving  down  to  light  in  the  pond 
behind  him.  On  they  came  in  solid  array,  and  his 
expectations  embarked  at  once  in  a  balloon.  So  did  his 


GOOSE  CAVALRY— DUCKS  AND  QUAIL.  63 

judgment.  The  first  barrel  rang  out,  and  the  solid 
ranks  scattered  for  a  second,  rose  and  closed  up  again 
in  solid  mass  just  as  he  pulled  the  second  trigger  full  at 
the  thickest  part.  Not  a  feather,  not  a  twist  or  "wabble" 
in  the  flight  of  a  single  bird!  Norton  turned  around 
and  watched  them.  He  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes 
as  he  saw  them  curve,  sail  down  in  orderly  array,  and 
light  with  unruffled  plumes  in  the  distant  pond. 

He  had  little  time  to  meditate  on  the  causes,  however, 
for  Belville  was  soon  around  to  the  pond  with  the  wagon, 
and  started  up  that  same  flock  and  several  flocks  of  wid- 
geon, beside.  They  came  along,  some  over  Norton,  others, 
remembering  the  place  of  their  late  scare,  sheering  off, 
others  turning  off  to  leave  these  quarters  entirely.  As  a 
flock  of  widgeon  passed  whistling  over  him,  he  raised  his 
gun  too  soon,  and  they  climbed  and  sheered  out  of 
reach ;  but  a  flock  of  teal  close  behind  them  came  whiz- 
zing on  in  level  flight,  and  too  swiftly  to  change  their 
course  enough  to  escape  the  gun.  They  sheered  and 
huddled  just  as  Norton  caught  along  the  barrels  a  fair 
sight  on  the  center  of  the  thickest  bunch.  Four  wilted 
and  whirled  downward  at  the  report;  another  lowered 
from  the  flock,  and  scudding  downward  toward  the 
pond,  splashed  dead  into  the  water  at  its  edge,  while  a 
sixth  mounted  high  in  air,  hung  there  a  moment  as  if  in 
doubt  as  to  which  element  he  belonged,  and  then  decided 
in  favor  of  earth. 

The  spoon-bills,  after  circling  two  or  three  times,  put- 
ting on  a  great  amount  of  style,  slid  down  the  air  on  a 
winding  course  and  lit  within  about  twenty  yards  of 
Laura's  blind.  They  looked  ineffably  stupid,  with  their 


64:        RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

big  shovel  bills,  but  as  Laura  began  to  move  her  gun 
they  began  to  swim  suspiciously  away.  Suddenly  they 
rose,  but  at  the  same  instant  she  happened  to  shoot,  and 
two  of  them  fell  flat  as  a  pun  in  the  humorous  column  of 
a  weekly  newspaper. 

A  flock  of  cinnamon  teal  were  about  to  settle  at  the 
same  moment,  but  changed  their  minds  so  expeditiously 
that  Laura  knocked  down  the  roof-tree  of  her  house  in 
trying  to  get  a  flying  shot  at  them.  Before  she  had  time 
to  fix  it  another  flock  rounded  the  bunch  of  rushes,  fly- 
ing low  along  the  water,  and  were  almost  upon  her  before 
they  sheered  and  rose — a  medley  of  shining  cinnamon 
jackets  and  flashing  wings  of  gray  and  blue.  As  she 
quickly  raised  the  gun  and  looked  along  the  barrel,  she 
saw,  or  thought  she  saw,  the  whole  flock  directly  in  line, 
and  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction  pulled  the  trigger.  The 
smile  was  instantly  swamped  in  a  quagmire  of  wonder, 
and  to  this  day  she  can't  understand  how  she  missed 
those  ducks. 

"  The  big  ducks  are  all  leaving,"  said  Belville,  driv- 
ing up.  "  Let's  go  up  to  the  Monte  and  lunch,  and 
when  we  come  back  we  will  visit  the  small  ponds  and 
sloughs  where  they  have  gone." 

Two  miles  over  rolling  green  sod  brought  them  to  the 
gate  of  the  Monte,  a  long,  narrow  park  of  level,  timbered 
ground  between  two  ranges  of  hills,  on  the  one  side  high, 
ragged,  and  rocky,  on  the  other  side  lower,  smoother, 
and  blazing  with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  over  a 
groundwork  of  soft,  warm  green.  They  rode  along 
beneath  old  sycamores  heavily  festooned  with  grape- 
vines, now  bright  with  new  life,  past  thick  jungles  of 


GOOSE  CAVALRY— DUCK'S  AND  QUAIL.          65 

wild  rose  and  sweetbrier,  by  great  beds  of  mustard 
whose  rank  green  was  now  waving  in  a  yellow  sea 
of  bloom,  and  heavy  green  elders  just  opening  their 
snowy  millinery,  until  they  reached  a  grove  of 
aged  live-oaks  that  might  have  been  monarchs  when 
Charlemagne  was  a  baby.  And  beyond  they  found 
on  one  side  the  river  whirling  its  glittering  mica 
sands,  while  the  hill,  covered  with  boulders  beneath 
which  sprang  an  abundance  of  lace,  gold,  silver,  cotton, 
and  other  ferns,  narrowed  in  on  the  other. 

Across  the  river  rose  Mt.  Cajon,  a  stupendous  wall  of 
granite  nearly  three  thousand  feet  high,  steep  as  the 
Palisades,  born  of  agony,  nurtured  by  convulsion,  and 
baptized  out  of  chaos.  Here  and  there,  through  the 
chinks  in  the  wild  mass  of  immense  boulders  that 
covered  its  grizzly  crest,  the  lilac  or  manzanita 
struggled,  and  here  and  there  a  scrubby  tree  fought  for 
a  foothold  in  some  of  the  rifts  of  the  great  sheer  wall ; 
but  all  else  was  gray,  impassive  granite.  Far  above  the 
towering  head  of  the  mountain  some  dark  birds  were 
winding  with  outstretched,  motionless  wing  in  graceful 
curves  through  the  soft  blue  air. 

"  How  beautifully  those  eagles  sail !"  said  Laura. 

"  Quite  a  natural  mistake,"  said  Belville. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     Are  they  not  eagles?" 

"  I'm  a  little  afraid  your  knowledge  of  eagles  has 
been  derived  from  poetry,"  said  Belville.  *'  Except  in 
poetry  and  tinsel  rhetoric  the  eagle  is  only  a  great  over- 
grown  booby  of  a  hawk,  the  clumsiest  and  most  ignoble 
of  his  tribe.  I've  seen  a  hare  outwit  him  by  twisting  on 
the  open  plain,  and  have  found  him  dead  by  the  side 


66        RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

of  a  miserable  sheep-stealing  coyote  whose  poisoned  vitals 
he  had  been  eating.  No  other  hawk  eats  anything  but 
his  own  game.  And  besides,  no  eagle  ever  sails  with  half 
the  grace  of  those  unpoetical  things  that  are  curling  with 
such  majestic  sweep  above  us." 

"  What  are  they,  then  ?"  she  asked,  with  an  air  of 
mingled  disappointment  and  skepticism. 

"  The  Californians,  who  love  to  dignify  all  of  the 
productions  of  their  native  State  with  imposing  names, 
call  them  vultures ;  but  they  are  in  fact  buzzards 
differing  from  the  common  buzzard  only  in  color  and 
size,  being  the  largest  bird  in  the  world  next  to  the 
condor  of  the  Andes.  But  of  all  birds  that  fly  their 
motions  are  the  most  beautiful  and — " 

"  They  are  not  either.  I  don't  like  them  a  bit,"  said 
Laura,  dropping  her  shining  eyes  upon  his  and  trying  to 
look  indignant. 

"  You  change  your  opinion  suddenly.  A  rose  by  any 
other  name  should  smell  as  sweet." 

"  Indeed  it  does  not,  though.  I'll  stand  by  the  eagle, 
and  won't  hear  him  insulted — the  bird  of  Jove  and 
America!  I'm  shocked  at  you,"  she  retorted,  with  a 
pretty  pout.  "  One  or  two  critics  like  you  could  spoil 
the  romance  of  all  creation." 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that  to  substitute  a  buzzard  for 
the  eagle  in  a  poem  would  be  to  dig  the  poem's  grave. 
I  know,  too,  that  he  is  indispensable  to  the  callow  city 
scribbler  who  takes  a  summer  trip  to  the  mountains  or 
the  northern  lakes.  The  eagle  on  the  blasted  pine  or 
spreading  his  great  vans  on  heaven's  breeze  is  invalua- 
ble to  the  literary  upholsterer  who  has  never  seen  any 


GOOSE  CAVALRY— DUCKS  AND   QUAIL.          67 

thing    of   nature    except    through    others'   eyes.      But 
when — " 

A  mellow  "  O-hi-o,  O-hi-o,  O-hi-o"  ringing  from  a  dis- 
tant opening  in  the  hills,  interrupted  him. 

"I  can't  stand  that!"  said  Belville.  "Let's  go  and 
enliven  them  a  little." 

"  I'm  a  little  tired  with  riding  and  hunting  ducks," 
said  Norton,  "  and  it  may  be  too  far  for  me." 

"Perhaps  the  ladies  will  go,  then?" 

Laura  answered  first,  saying  that  she  would  go,  and 
Miss  Norton  said  she  would  stay  and  get  the  lunch 
ready.  So  Belville  and  Miss  Wilbur  started  for  the  quail. 

It  took  but  a  few  moments  to  break  and  scatter  the 
flock,  as  on  the  day  before. 

"  Now,  Miss  Wilbur,"  said  Belville,  "  I  really  don't  care 
whether  we  get  a  bird  or  not,  but  it  will  be  a  splendid 
chance  for  you  to  practice,  since  you  seem  so  anxious 
to  learn." 

"  I  should  be  delighted  to  try.  It's  fun  to  see  them 
fly  and  shoot  at  them,  even  if  you  hit  none." 

"  Then  keep  a  little  ahead  of  me,  please,  and  when  a 
bird  rises  try  and  see  him  along  that  strip  between 
the  barrels  of  the  gun,  and  the  instant  you  do  see  him, 
pull  the  trigger.  This  flock  is  not  so  big,  and  therefore 
not  so  bewildering  as  the  first  one  you  saw,  which  was 
of  extraordinary  size  even  for  this  country." 

As  Laura  moved  ahead,  a  bird  sprang  up,  with  a  saucy 
"  chip,  chip,  chip,"  from  a  bush  almost  beneath  her  feet. 
As  she  raised  her  gun  at  this  one,  another  bustled  out  of 
a  bush  to  her  left  with  such  vigor  that  she  abandoned 
the  first  and  turned  her  gun  on  the  second.  While  do- 


68         RIFLE,  ROD   AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

ing  so  she  heard  a  rustle  and  a  squeal  in  a  bush  to  her 
right,  and  a  bird  burst  from  it  and  scudded  a  few  yards 
along  the  ground,  almost  as  fast  as  if  in  flight,  and  then 
darted  away  on  the  wing  just  as  she  raised  her  gun  at  it ; 
and  at  the  same  instant  four  or  five  more,  buzzing  and 
squealing  as  they  flew  from  a  bush  to  her  right,  com- 
pleted her  confusion. 

"  Mercy  !"  she  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  she  could  catch 
the  breath  she  had  held  all  this  time.  "I'm  too  nervous. 
I'm  trembling  like  a  leaf!" 

"  So  is  every  one  at  first  that  has  any  fine  sensibility. 
But  you  mustn't  allow  other  birds  to  distract  your  atten- 
tion. Keep  your  attention  on  the  first  one  you  raise  the 
gun  at,  and  shoot  at  that  one  even  if  it  does  get  too  far 
away;  and  don't  shoot  until  you  get  the  gun  well 
aimed." 

Another  bird  rose  at  her  first  step  forward.  As  the 
gun  came  to  a  level,  she  caught  over  its  end  a  faint 
glimpse  of  a  dark  blue  object  swiftly  skimming  the  top. 
of  the  brush.  A  strange  feeling  tingled  like  an  electric 
shock  through  her  whole  frame  ;  she  was  scarcely  con- 
scious of  touching  the  trigger  ;  yet  a  shaft  of  flame  shot 
out,  and  through  the  rolling  smoke  she  dimly  saw  a  cloud 
of  fine  feathers  come  drifting  back  upon  the  breeze,  and 
the  dark  blue  thing  was  gone. 

"Isn't  that  just  splendid!"  she  said,  with  sparkling 
eyes  and  rapid  breath.  "  I  never  thought  that  shooting 
was  so  nice." 

"  Ah  ha !  Farewell  now  to  peace  of  mind ;  farewell 
the  dance,  the  piano,  and  the  song ;  farewell  the  lamp- 
mat,  the  novel,  and  the  tidy ;  farewell  embroidered  cats 


GOOSE   CAVALRY— DUCKS  AND   QUAIL.          69 

and  decalcomanie  vegetation  !  You're  gone  now — lost, 
lost,  lost!" 

"  Well,  I'm  awakened,  surely,  as  you  said  I  would  be. 
If  that's  any  specimen  of  the  amusement,  I'm  a  confirmed 
sportsman  from  now  on." 

"  But  it's  only  fair  to  tell  you  that  you  will  have  a  long 
road  to  journey  before  you  can  do  that  often.  However, 
you  will  find  pleasure  enough  in  hitting  one  out  of  four." 

41  Oh  yes,  I'm  sure  that's  enough ;  for  it's  half  the  pleas- 
ure to  be  out  of  doors  amid  such  charming  scenery,  and 
to  see  the  birds  fly  and  dart  about  so  fast,"  she  answered, 
walking  on.  "  I'm  sure  I  shall  learn  to — " 

Whizz!  went  another  bird,  and  bang!  went  the  gun 
harmlessly  above  it.  "  Chip,  chip,  chip"  went  another,  as 
the  shot  from  the  second  barrel  shattered  a  wild  cucum- 
ber hanging  from  a  bush  several  feet  behind  it. 

"  Pshaw !  I  haven't  quite  mastered  it  yet,  have  I  ?"  she 
exclaimed ;  then  adding,  as  he  reloaded  for  her,  "  I'm 
wasting  your  cartridges,  too." 

"  I  dote  on  their  destruction,"  was  the  gallant  reply. 
"  But  you  must  take  it  more  easily.  Don't  shoot  until  you 
see  the  bird  between  the  barrels,  and  shoot  a  little  ahead 
of  birds  flying  crosswise." 

Another  quail  darted  from  a  bush  to  the  right,  skipped 
like  a  hare  along  the  ground  for  a  few  yards,  then  burst 
into  full  flight  with  a  " chip*  chip,  chip"  followed  by  the 
shot  of  Laura's  first  barrel  far  in  his  rear;  and  whizz! 
buzz!  "chip,  chip,  chip"  went  a  dozen  more,  drifting  like 
meteors  through  the  smoke  of  the  gun,  while  Laura 
shifted  her  aim  from  one  to  the  other,  and  finally  shot 
at  vacancy. 


70         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

A  few  steps,  and  half  a  dozen  more  whisked  out  of 
the  ramiria,  radiating  like  the  branches  of  a  fan,  and 
each  made  first-class  time  for  a  different  point  of  the 
compass.  She  looked  at  them  an  instant  in  confusion, 
then  raised  the  gun  on  one  going  straight  away.  It  came 
full  in  range  of  a  careering  line  of  gray  and  blue,  and 
almost  automatically  she  pulled  the  trigger. 

At  the  report,  the  bird  rose  upward ;  up,  up,  up  it 
went,  its  little  dark  head  and  sable  plume  in  clear  outline 
against  the  sky;  but  now  its  wings  beat  slower  and 
slower,  it  hung  a  moment  on  high,  then  drooped  its 
little  crested  head,  folded  its  fluttering  wings,  and 
dropped  with  a  heavy  thump  to  earth. 

"  Shot  through  the  head  !  Fit  emblem  of  many  another 
crack-brain  whose  towering  has  only  increased  the  vio- 
lence of  his  fall,"  said  Belville,  as  he  picked  up  the  bird 
and  brought  it  to  her. 

"Oh,  I  feel  so  sorry  for  the  poor  little  thing! "  she 
said,  with  sad  November  morning  in  her  expression. 
"But  isn't  this  delightful?"  she  added  a  moment  after, 
with  a  June  noonday  in  its  place. 

Strange  passion  indeed !  That  even  a  woman  should 
draw  pleasure  from  the  sufferings  of  poor  little  innocents ! 
Yet  what  avail  sentimental  arguments  against  what  is 
as  fixed  as  the  eternal  hills?  The  taste  is  there,  im- 
planted by  the  Creator ;  not  intended  to  lie  dormant,  for 
it  is  too  intense  to  be  given  for  nothing.  The  highest 
and  noblest  of  our  race  have  bowed  to  it,  and  each  year 
the  throng  of  votaries  increases.  And  what,  after  all, 
are  the  arguments  against  it  but  the  old  plea  of  prefer- 
ring the  incidental  before  the  essential?  One  might 
as  well  say  that  the  pleasure  of  riding  lay  in  the  suffering 


GOOSE   CAVALRY— DUCKS  AND   QUAIL.          71 

of  the  horse  that  is  compelled  to  travel  against  his  will, 
as  to  say  that  the  pain  of  bird  or  fish  is  anything  but  an 
unpleasant,  although  unavoidable,  incident  of  hunting  or 
fishing. 

"You're  doing  remarkably  well,"  said  Belville  en- 
couragingly. "  Killing  two  birds  the  first  day  is  rare 
even  for  a  man." 

"  Oh,  now  you're  flattering." 

"May  I  never  speak  again  if" —  A  bird  here  rose 
with  noisy  wing,  curled  to  the  left  of  Laura,  and  passed 
almost  over  Belville's  head.  As  she  raised  the  gun 
Belville  was  hidden  by  the  barrels,  and  when  she  fired 
and  took  down  her  gun  he  lay  flat  upon  the  ground. 

A  shriek  that  might  have  waked  the  mummy  of  an 
Egyptian  deaf-mute  nearly  froze  the  wine  in  the  lunch- 
basket  at  the  wagon.  As  the  echo  died  away  along  the 
wall  of  Mount  Cajon,  Belville  raised  his  head  and  said, 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?" 

"Oh,  Doctor!  how  could  you  scare  me  so?"  she 
gasped. 

"  Scare  you  ?  Why,  I  only  dropped  out  of  your  way, 
and  stayed  there,  so  as  to  give  you  a  clear  field  for  your 
second  barrel :  a  thing  one  should  always  do  when  a  bird 
comes  near." 

"You  lay  so  long !     I  thought  you  were  shot/' 

"  Perhaps  I  did  lie  a  little  longer  than  was  absolutely 
necessary.  But  I  wanted  to  be  sure  the  shot  had  got  past. 
This  San  Diego  powder  is  a  little  slow  sometimes." 

"I  thought  all  powder  was  quick  enough?"  said  she. 

"  Everything  is  slow  in  this  country — life,  death,  rail- 
roads, debtors,  and  all,  and  the  presumption  is  strongly 
in  favor  of  the  slowness  of  the  powder,"  he  replied. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  GLANCE  AT  THE  OLDEN  TIME. 

HERE  is  a  vast  quadrangle  of  earthen  wall  and 
ruins,  and  our  friends  now  stand  musing  in 
it.  Who  built  and  trod  this  long  array  of  doorways, 
arches,  galleries,  and  storied  tiers  of  rooms,  all  now  crum- 
bling to  decay  ?  How  quickly  the  past  rises  before  the 
spectators  as  they  gaze  on  the  wreck  of  what  was  once 
the  stateliest  structure  of  California,  and  contemplate  what 
has  been  spared  by  the  Vandal  hand  that  for  a  few  paltry 
tiles  has  despoiled  this  noble  shrine  !  These  long  colon- 
nades and  fretted  arches,  the  long  walls  of  adobe  run- 
ning in  all  directions,  the  rough  mounds  of  earth  that 
were  once  the  walls  of  many  houses,  all  speak  of  departed 
greatness.  In  one  corner  stands  the  massive  church  and 
tower  inside  of  which,  as  in  the  olden  days,  is  still  the 
rudely-painted  altar  where  thousands  of  dusky  worship- 
ers have  bowed.  High  in  the  tower,  where  the  cactus 
bristles  from  the  rents  of  time,  still  hangs  the  bell  that 
called  to  prayer  the  tenants  of  the  fallen  tombs  in  the 
graveyard  below.  But  within  and  without  all  is  now 
silent  as  the  grave. 

Sneer  not,  you  who  have  "been  abroad."  When  you 
contrast  this  relic  with  St.  Peter's,  remember  that  the 
nand  that  sprung  these  arches  and  this  dome,  that  laid 
out  these  great  walls,  leveled  these  floors,  and  raised  these 


A    GLANCE  AT   THE   OLDEN   TIME.  73 

colonnades  so  plumb,  had  no  artisans  to  follow  out  its  paper 
plans,  and  possessed  few  tools  but  those  of  the  roughest 
sort ;  no  nails,  but  only  rawhide  lashings ;  no  wagons, 
carts — almost  nothing  but  the  raw  material.  There  were 
no  workmen  but  the  wild  and  lazy  Indians,  the  stupidest 
of  their  race,  speaking  a  strange  language,  caring  for 
nothing  but  food,  and  watchful  of  nothing  but  a  chance 
to  steal.  From  yonder  mountain,  thirty  miles  away  and 
six  thousand  feet  high,  those  beams  were  carried — yes, 
carried,  on  Indian  shoulders;  for  there  were  then  no 
wagons  or  teams,  nor  yokes  of  oxen  to  drag  them. 

Think  of  the  toil,  the  patience,  the  nerve — no,  the  un- 
dying faith,  for  nothing  else  could  have  done  it — that 
was  necessary  to  superintend  every  inch  of  that  massive 
work,  from  the  digging  of  the  dirt  or  hewing  of  the  tim- 
ber to  the  painting  of  the  altar;  and  remember  that  the 
brain  that  directed  it  all  was  trained  only  to  the  work  of 
the  cloister  and  the  confessional,  and  was  thousands  and 
thousands  of  miles  from  supplies  or  skilled  help. 

All  now  speaks  only  of  death  and  decay.  Yet  there  was 
a  time  when  busy  life  streamed  daily  through  these  portals; 
when  the  dust  of  business  whirled  daily  in  these  courts; 
when  all  these  buildings  were  thronged  with  dusky  arti- 
sans, vibrating  between  work,  atole,  and  prayer;  when 
,  thousands  of  Indians — not  dragooned,  for  there  were  no 
soldiers  to  do  it — bowed  to  the  persuasive  will  of  a  single 
priest  who  had  left  home,  friends,  civilization,  and  com- 
forts of  every  kind,  for  their  sake  alone;  when  thirty 
thousand  cattle,  ten  thousand  horses,  and  thousands  of 
sheep  roamed  these  rolling  hills  around  us.  Quietly  this 
little  world  moved  on,  without  feeling  the  jars  that  shook 


74        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

the  greater  sphere.  They  scarcely  knew,  until  it  was 
over,  of  the  paltry  scuffle  for  empire  on  the  Atlantic 
coast ;  and  when  Napoleon  was  thundering  at  the  doors 
of  Europe  the  echoes  died  away  thousands  of  miles  from 
their  peaceful  hearths.  They  lived,  built,  worked,  taught, 
prayed,  and  died,  their  lives  one  long,  lingering  summer 
day,  until  Mexican  cupidity  eclipsed  its  peaceful  sun. 

What  sadness  must  have  possessed  the  souls  of  the 
padres  as  they  then  hastened  to  put  a  barren  sceptre 
into  the  hand  of  the  secular  invader,  turned  the  Indians 
loose  among  the  fattened  herds,  tore  up  the  vineyards, 
threw  down  the  wine-press,  and  dismantled  the  pictured 
shrines !  Yet  even  sadder  is  the  thought  that  this  grand 
old  ruin  of  the  mission  of  San  Luis  Rey  is,  like  all 
the  missions  of  California,  also  doomed  to  destruction 
through  apathy,  stupidity,  and  Vandalism,  aided  by  a 
bigotry  that  refuses  to  let  others  save  what  it  will  not  or 
cannot  save  itself. 

After  passing  over  a  few  miles  of  smooth,  rolling  hills 
clad  with  wild  oak,  alfileria,  clover,  and  mustard,  our 
party  of  hunters  descended  into  the  fair  valley  of  Santa 
Margarita,  part  of  the  princely  estate  of  Don  Juan 
Forster,  and  in  a  short  time  they  reached  the  ranch- 
house  itself. 

This  place  is  a  relic  of  that  golden  age  of  California 
life  which  lay  between  the  decline  of  the  missions  and 
the  invasion  of  the  Yankee.  Here  still  stands  the  old 
ranch-house,  a  great  quadrangle  of  adobe,  built  around 
a  court-yard,  the  seat  of  a  little  empire  of  thirty  square 
leagues  of  land,  much  of  it  the  very  best  in  Southern 
California,  The  great  walls,  nearly  a  yard  thick,  hint 


A    GLANCE  AT   THE   OLDEN   TIME.  75 

strongly  of  cool  days  in  summer  and  warm  nights  in 
winter.  The  long  massive  beams,  cut  in  the  mountains 
thirty  miles  away;  the  rafters  lashed  with  rawhide 
instead  of  being  nailed;  the  old  red  tiles  made  by  the 
mission  Indians  and  held  in  place  by  their  own  weight 
—all  speak  of  the  difficulties  of  building  in  those  days. 
.  ct  the  whole  is  massive  and  strong,  and  will  stand  for 
many  a  year  to  come  when  far  more  costly  structures  are 
decayed.  Here  still,  as  in  bygone  days,  may  be  heard 
the  whizz  of  the  riata  thrown  by  the  skillful  hand ;  for 
here  yet  linger  a  very  few  of  that  almost  extinct  race,  the 
old  vaqueros  of  California — men  who  could,  single- 
handed,  ride  down,  lasso,  and  bind  the  wild  bull  of  the 
hills  on  a  mountain- side  where  a  city  rider  would  hardly 
dare  to  lead  a  horse. 

Here,  too,  may  still  be  seen  another  fast-fading  relic, 
the  hospitable  old  Spanish  gentleman  of  the  olden  time. 
An  Englishman  by  birth  and  a  Spaniard  by  adoption, 
Don  Juan  Forster  is  well  fitted  to  be  the  grandee  that  he 
has  been  and  dispense  the  rare  old  hospitality  to  all  the 
world  that  he  has  so  long  dispensed.  Uniting  the  vir- 
tues of  both  races,  without  the  vices  of  either — unless 
liberality  be  a  vice — two  generations  have  looked  upon 
him  with  no  feeling  of  envy,  but  only  of  friendly  pride. 
And  though,  for  the  interests  of  the  country,  many  will 
rejoice  that  his  immense  estate  is  thrown  open  to  settle- 
ment, there  are  still  many  who  will  regret  the  loss  of 
this  grand  memento  of  the  olden  time. 

Despise  not,  my  stylish  friend,  that  olden  time.  The 
handsome  rosewood  and  massive  mahogany  furniture  of 
antique  pattern,  the  laces  and  the  linen  of  the  fineness, 


76         RIFLE,  ROD  AND  GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA 

solidity,  and  patterns  of  the  past,  and  many  other  ancient 
household  articles,  show  plainly  that  comfort  and  luxury 
were  even  then  not  strangers  in  this  wild  land. 

But  what  if  they  were?  What  if  the  great  adobe  houses 
lacked  the  tinsel  frippery  of  more  pretentious  mansions  ? 
Spend  a  few  hot  days  in  their  cool  recesses  when  your 
modern  house  of  clear  lumber,  scroll-work,  brackets  and 
cornices  is  heated  through  by  the  sun,  and  you  will 
begin  to  think  it  just  possible  that  cheapness  was  not  the 
sole  motive  in  building  of  sun-dried  mud.  What  if  their 
tables  lacked  the  fare  that  tickles  the  palate  and  makes  the 
undertaker  smile  ?  They  repaired  their  fleshly  tenements 
with  the  solid  oak  and  not  the  gilded  pine;  and  they 
and  their  children  show  the  difference.  What  if  they 
lounged  not  on  silken  sofas  or  gazed  on  no  costly  daubs  ? 
They  took  their  ease  in  the  saddle,  and  their  eyes 
rested  daily  on  pictures  that  art  can  never  degrade  to 
canvas. 

If  they  had  no  railroads,  they  could  travel  from  San 
Diego  to  the  farthest  northern  settlement  without  a  cent 
— a  proceeding  that  savors  of  bankruptcy  in  these 
enlightened  days.  They  had  no  newspapers,  but  they 
knew  not  the  torture  of  the  column  of  bad  puns,  and 
cared  nothing  for  the  advent  of  triplets  in  Mr.  Snipe's 
family  in  Texas,  or  for  the  abrogation  of  Barney  Mul- 
doon's  optic  in  a  Bowery  row.  They  had  no  telegraphs, 
but  also  no  mining-stock  reports  to  steal  away  their 
brains  and  money;  no  imposing  school-houses  with  big 
cupolas,  but  no  bonds  to  swamp  them  with  taxes;  few 
novels  or  none,  but  also  few  lazy  girls.  They  had  no 
aristocratic  pups,  hammerless  breech-loaders,  or  repeat- 


A    GLANCE  AT   THE   OLDEN   TIME.  77 

ing  rifles ;  but  they  could  lasso  the  grizzly  and  drag  him 
alive  from  his  mountain  home. 

Rude  was  their  system  of  justice ;  but  they  had  no 
probate  courts  or  public  administrators.  They  had  no 
doctors  or  lawyers  ;  but  then  they  died  without  expensive 
assistance,  and  their  families  got  at  least  one  per  cent 
of  the  property  they  left.  Living  in  true  patriarchal 
style,  surrounded  by  plenty  of  the  solid  necessaries  of 
life,  with  plenty  of  servants  that  cost  only  their  board, 
with  nothing  to  do  but  look  after  their  herds,  roll  cigar- 
itas,  attend  fandangos  and  meriendas,  and  warble  their 
beautiful  language,  they  drifted  down  the  stream  of  time 
without  touching  oar  or  rudder  or  striking  sand-bars 
or  snags. 

That  soft  Arcadian  day  is  gone.  Its  twilight  still  lingers 
in  a  few  places,  but  its  sun  has  set  forever.  Our  country- 
men came  and  were  welcomed;  for,  contrary  to  the  com- 
mon belief,  the  majority  of  Californians  were  anxious  for 
the  change.  We  came  with  our  usual  Yankee  conceit 
and  our  prejudice  against  everything  that  comported  not 
with  our  notions  of  "  progress" — all  strengthened  by  the 
prejudice  against  Mexicans  imbibed  during  the  war  with 
them.  We  came  to  load  them  with  ruinous  costs  and 
atrocious  lawyers'  fees  to  maintain  those  vested  rights  of 
property  which  all  nations  respect ;  to  squat  on  their 
ranches  and  live  on  their  cattle ;  to  pass  laws  to  destroy 
their  only  industry,  and,  as  time  has  proved,  the  best 
industry  of  this  southern  country.  We  came  to  lend  them 
money  at  five  per  cent  a  month,  and  trap  them  into  con- 
tracts to  pay  it  for  a  long  enough  time  to  sweep  away 
their  homes  with  the  mortgage.  We  came  to  turn  up  the 


78          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

parvenu  proboscis  at  Indian-bred  and  Castilian-bred 
alike,  and  treated  as  "greasers"  some  who  were  our 
equals  in  every  respect  and  the  superiors  of  many  of  the 
upstart  Americans  who  sneered  at  them. 

I  do  not  believe  that  justice  has  ever  been  done  to  the 
Spanish  of  California ;  and  this  is  not  the  place  to  do  it 
even  if  I  were  fully  qualified  for  the  task.  But  such 
ideas  as  are  generally  obtained  from  newspaper  and 
magazine  articles  about  Texas  and  New  Mexico  convey 
a  very  false  idea  of  the  Spanish  of  California.  Their 
names  are  written  high  upon  the  roll  of  honor  of  the 
State ;  and  they  have  been  among  the  best  and  most 
honest  of  State  and  county  officials,  and  the  most  incor- 
ruptible and  impartial  of  judges.  No  more  law-abiding 
or  better  citizens  exist  than  the  upper  half  of  the  Span- 
ish, and  it  is  difficult  to  see  wherein  the  lower  half  are 
any  worse  than  the  lower  half  of  American  society.  If 
they  are,  it  is  only  because  they  have  bettered  the  instruc- 
tion of  excellent  and  faithful  teachers.  Their  "laziness," 
so  much  talked  about,  is  precisely  what  that  of  the 
Western  farmer  would  be  if  overwhelmed  by  a  horde  of 
Chinese,  who  should  pass  laws  that  virtually  compelled 
him  to  abandon  his  way  of  making  money  and  adopt 
theirs,  of  which  he  knew  nothing,  and  which  would 
barely  make  him  a  living.  If  their  possessions  are  gra- 
dually slipping  from  them  and  their  lands  passing  into 
the  stranger's  hand,  it  is  due  to  the  laws  and  the  heavy 
taxes  we  have  forced  upon  them  much  more  than  to  either 
their  own  improvidence  or  want  of  thrift.  And  when 
more  than  half  the  Americans  are  going  the  same  road, 
we  might  as  well  acknowledge  that  we  do  not  know  all 


A    GLANCE  AT  THE   OLDEN    TIME.  79 

about  the  best  way  to  make  a  living  in  Southern  Cali- 
fornia, and  that  the  old  inhabitants  did  know  at  least 
something  of  that  art ;  for  it  is  certain  that  they  were 
nearly  all  wealthy  and  wanted  nothing. 

After  their  visit  to  the  old  mission  our  friends  were 
glad  to  sit  down  under  Don  Juan  Forster's  great  front 
porch  and  look  down  the  valley  toward  the  sea,  just  as 
the  flood-tide  of  rosy  mist  began  to  flow  in  from  the  sink- 
ing sun,  and  the  soft  carpet  of  the  high  smooth  hills  to 
run  through  all  shades  of  purple,  green,  and  gold.  The 
waves  of  light  ran  rippling  over  the  rolling  slopes  of  sil- 
very-green wild  oats;  the  emerald  meadow  in  front  was 
dotted  with  horses  and  cattle ;  the  wild  geese  and  brant  in 
clamorous  mobs  were  marching  in  from  the  coast ;  the 
wild  ducks  in  whizzing  flocks  scudded  up  and  down  the 
valley ;  here  and  there  a  snipe  was  pitching  and  squeak- 
ing aloft ;  the  sand-hill  cranes,  with  dolorous  " gr-r-rooo, 
gr-r-rooo"  were  floating  across  the  blue  zenith  ;  the  white 
pelican,  the  egret,  or  the  swan  was  winging  its  solemn 
way  toward  the  Laguna ;  and  from  the  canons  came  the 
clear  "  ohio,  ohio"  of  the  valley  quail. 

"It  seems  like  an  enchanted  land,  does  it  not?"  said 
Laura.  "  I  don't  wonder  so  many  people  fall  in  love  with 
California." 

"  You  are  now  seeing  it  at  its  best.  There  are  times 
when  it  is  different  from  this,"  said  Don  Juan,  with  a 
frankness  that  is  too  rare  among  the  Californians  when 
any  question  about  California  comes  up.  "  We  expe- 
rience here  three  kinds  of  winter:  First,  the  'good' 
winter,  when  there  is  just  about  rain  enough,  and  that 
properly  distributed.  Then  vegetation  is  at  its  climax, 


80         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

crops  are  good,  the  sloughs  and  ponds  have  plenty  of 
water,  and  geese  and  ducks,  as  well  as  other  game,  are 
plenty.  Second,  the  'medium'  year,  when  there  is  not 
rain  enough  (or  not  properly  distributed),  to  make  much 
more  than  half  a  crop  of  grass  and  grain,  but  when  there 
is  still  enough  to  feed  all  stock  and  cover  most  of  the 
expenses  of  the  settler.  The  first  of  these  may  be  too 
wet  for  the  very  sick  invalid,  the  second  will  be  about 
right,  and  there  is  a  third  will  suit  him  exactly  if  he 
wants  only  clear,  warm  weather  and  has  no  sympathy  for 
a  suffering  land. 

"  But  who  with  a  sentient  soul  can  behold  the  '  dry  '  or 
'bad '  winter  and  not  feel  sorrowful?  Day  after  day  and 
week  after  week  the  sun  climbs  the  unclouded  sky,  sinks 
into  his  ocean  bed  of  silver,  carmine,  and  gold,  and 
flames  next  morning  at  the  eastern  gate  with  as  smiling 
a  face  as  that  of  a  just-accepted  lover.  At  long  intervals, 
as  if  in  mockery  of  our  hopes,  a  very  few  rain-drops  patter 
gently  on  the  roof.  And  once  or  twice  there  may  be  enough 
of  a  shower  to  tempt  one  to  borrow  an  umbrella,  but  not 
long  enough  to  make  him  yield  to  the  temptation  to 
keep  it. 

"But  January  treads  on  the  heels  of  February,  and 
February  joins  March  in  the  long  procession  of  bright 
days,  with  a  smiling  face  above  and  sad  and  sickening  faces 
below.  Then  yonder  rolling  hills  of  velvet  green  are 
brown  and  bare ;  the  violets  and  the  alfileria,  called 
out  by  the  first  good  rain-spirt,  curl  up  and  wither 
away,  or  seed  out  at  an  inch  high ;  the  earth  yields  no 
interest  on  the  farmer's  loan ;  the  bee  returns  empty  to 
his  hive  ;  the  quail  declines  to  mate ;  the  hare  retires 


A    GLANCE  AT   THE   OLDEN  TIME.  81 


like  a  monk  to  the  cloisters  of  the  rocks ;  and  the  goose 
returns  disgusted  to  the  north.  Then  the  ewe  deserts 
her  new-born  lamb,  and  the  raven  begins  to  feed  on  her 
even  before  she  lies  down  to  die.  The  ox  or  the  horse 
staggers  to  the  spring  and  is  unable  to  return ;  bloated 
and  weary,  the  overworked  buzzards  sit  around  on  the 
corral  fence;  and  still  nature  keeps  up  a  steady  dress- 
parade  of  fine  weather,  and  the  sun  smiles  on,  smiles  on, 
as  bright  and  soft  as  if  bound  on  an  errand  of  mercy  in- 
stead of  an  errand  of  death." 

As  he  finished  this  doleful  description,  Don  Juan 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  with  a  gesture  of  resignation ; 
and  then,  recovering  his  wonted  demeanor,  he  rose,  and 
with  a  smile  excused  himself  to  provide  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  his  guests  within. 

"  Many  people  are  very  much  disappointed  with 
California  and  do  not  like  it,"  said  Belville,  after  his 
host's  departure.  "It  has  been  so  absurdly  overpraised 
by  some  writers  who,  not  content  with  dipping  their 
quills  into  the  rainbow,  must  upset  the  whole  brill- 
iant affair  altogether  and  splash  it  over  their  pages, 
that  thousands  have  come  here  hoping  to  enjoy  the  felic- 
ities of  heaven  without  the  preliminary  of  dying.  And 
nobody  who  has  taken  his  ideas  from  these  hyperdia- 
bolical  books — hyperbolical  I  mean,  but  it's  all  the  same 
in  this  case — can  feel  anything  but  a  bitter  disappoint- 
ment when  he  comes  to  California.  All  this  has  pro- 
duced a  reaction,  until  it  is  now  the  fashion  to  be  quite 
as  unjust  on  the  other  side." 

"  I  don't  think  it  fair  to  make  California  responsible 
for  the  imaginations  of  writers,"  said  Laura. 


82         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"  Of  course  no  writer  can  guard  against  every  miscon- 
ception," said  Belville.  "But  every  writer  is  bound  to 
know  that  certain  mistakes  will  surely  be  made  unless 
guarded  against.  And  where  a  book  is  written  expressly 
to  induce  immigration,  as  some  have  been,  it  is  wicked 
not  to  provide  against  misconstruction,  to  say  nothing  of 
assertions  positively  false." 

"  But  suppose  you  were  writing  up  our  hunting  trip, 
you  would  not  describe  days  of  poor  shooting,  would 
you?" 

"  Such  thing  would  not  be  a  guide-book.  Besides, 
fully  detailed  descriptions  of  hunting  trips  are  always  a 
bore,  and  every  one  of  sense  enough  to  read  about  such 
things  at  all  knows  that  there  are  times  and  places  in 
the  best  of  hunting  countries  where  the  shooting  is  poor. 
If  he  should  infer  from  anything  I  wrote  about  the  hunt- 
ing, scenery,  or  climate  that  he  had  better  cut  adrift 
from  good  moorings  at  home  and  anchor  his  bark  in  El 
Cajon,  or  any  other  place,  as  a  farmer  or  fruit-grower,  he 
could  not  blame  me  if  he  found  himself  mistaken.  But 
if  I  allowed  him  to  think  that  game  grew  on  every  bush — 
when,  as  you  have  seen,  there  are  thousands  of  acres 
without  a  feather ;  or  to  think  that  he  could  get  all  the 
shooting  he  wanted  in  a  short  stroll  on  foot  from  any 
house — when,  as  you  know,  a  buggy  or  saddle-horse  is 
nearly  as  indispensable  to  comfort  as  the  gun  is  to  suc- 
cess;  I  should  be  doing  wrong." 

"  Do  you  think  any  one  would  believe  it,  anyhow,  if 
you  should  tell  the  plain,  unvarnished  truth?"  asked 
Norton. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Belville.      "  The  beauty  of  California 


A    GLANCE  AT   THE   OLDEN   TIME.  83 

in  spring  is  quite  generally  conceded  even  by  those  who 
dislike  it  most,  and  it  is  granted  by  all  Californians 
that  in  a  good  year  the  southern  part  is  the  richest 
in  flowers.  It  is  also  well  known  that  California  is  one 
of  the  best,  if  not  the  very  best,  of  states  in  the  Union 
for  game ;  although,  except  for  quails  and  perhaps  rab- 
bits, the  northern  part  is  the  best.  It  is  generally  known 
by  all  well  informed  on  hunting  matters  that  hundreds 
of  farmers  in  the  north  have  to  employ  '  goose  cavalry,' 
or  mounted  men  with  guns,  to  keep  the  geese  off  their 
fields." 

"And  I  should  have  to  do  so  here  if  I  raised  wheat," 
said  Don  Juan,  as  he  came  out  to  invite  the  party  in- 
doors to  take  some  wine,  a  beverage  very  different  from 
the  California  wine  so  often  seen  East,  which  contains 
more  headache  than  a  green-hickory  club. 

"  California  is  pretty  well  known,  too,  as  the  best  of 
all  the  states  for  camping  out,  and  the  easiest  and  most 
comfortable  generally  for  all  out-of-door  campaigning, 
especially  for  ladies,  thousands  of  whom  hunt,  fish,  and 
camp  out  every  year,"  added  Belville  to  Norton,  as  they 
left  the  porch. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

AMONG  THE  GEESE  AND  CRANES. 

THE  next  morning,  under  a  sky  of  spotless  blue, 
the  wagon  rattled  down  the  valley  toward  the  sea, 
with  a  jolly  quartet  on  pleasure  bent.  The  hills  seemed 
to  swim  in  a  luminous  mist  of  green,  their  round  heads 
powdered  with  diamond  and  gold  dust,  their  sides  robed 
in  the  silvery  green  of  the  wild  oats.  The  wealth  of 
flowers  our  friends  had  seen  in  other  valleys  was  missing 
here;  but  there  was  still  exuberance  enough, for  the  small 
pink  stars  of  the  alfileria  twinkled  from  every  slope,  the 
scarlet  of  the  cardinal  flower  gleamed  here  and  there,  the 
poppy  blazed  in  small  patches  along  the  distant  meadows, 
in  places  along  the  far-off  hills  glowed  banks  of  violets 
or  the  orange-colored  toroso  flared  in  gaudy  pride,  while 
far  up  along  the  hill-tops  the  white  and  purple  yuccas  with 
their  tall  staffs  and  enormous  plumes  stood  like  sentinels 
of  the  land. 

Along  by  little  sloughs  and  ponds  where  cinnamon 
teal,  green-wings,  widgeon,  and  other  ducks  were  diving, 
muddling,  or  floating;  where  great  pelicans  rode  at  an- 
chor, and  blue  cranes  and  white  egrets  stood  along  the 
shore  in  solemn  dignity  and  hungry  hopefulness;  past 
meadows  where  far-off  troops  of  geese  stood  like  ten- 
pins on  the  greensward,  and  brant  were  pitching  and 
tumbling  from  on  high  with  clanging  cackle,  they  made 
their  way. 


AMONG    THE   GEESE  AND   CRANES.  85 

"  Why  don't  you  stop  ?  I  should  think  there  was 
game  enough  here,"  said  Norton. 

"I'm  bound  for  headquarters,"  was  Belville's  answer 
as  he  cracked  his  whip  over  the  spinning  team. 

Suddenly  he  stopped,  and  pointing  to  three  large  white 
birds  in  a  pond  some  three  hundred  yards  away  that  to 
the  rest  of  the  party  looked  like  pelicans,  he  took  his 
favorite  Winchester  rifle,  and  jumping  from  the  wagon, 
made  a  long  detour  to  get  behind  a  heavy  fringe  of 
rushes  that  grew  along  one  side  of  the  pond.  This 
brought  him  to  within  fifty  yards  of  the  birds ;  but  while 
he  had  been  going  around  they  had  drifted  away  from 
where  he  had  first  caught  sight  of  them,  so  that  when  he 
raised  his  head,  a  little  too  carelessly,  to  find  them,  they 
saw  him  first. 

They  rose  with  surprising  ease  and  grace  for  birds  so 
large,  and  floated  upward  against  the  rising  breeze,  while 
ball  after  ball  from  the  swift-repeating  rifle  splashed  the 
water  and  went  singing  gayly  over  the  flowery  meadow 
beyond.  But  at  the  fifth  shot  the  hindmost  bird  wavered, 
and  fell  with  heavy  splash. 

As  the  wagon  drove  up  and  they  looked  at  the  snowy 
plumage,  the  long  neck,  the  black  feet  and  bill,  it  needed 
little  guessing  to  tell  what  it  was. 

"Why,  it's  a  swan,  isn't  it!"  exclaimed  Laura.  "How 
could  you  do  such  a  wicked  thing?  Isn't  the  down  soft 
and  lovely  !  Can't  I  have  it  ?  I  feel  so  sorry  for  the 
poor  thing,  so  innocent  and  snowy.  What  a  lovely  trim- 
ming that  down  will  make!  I'm  going  to  have  it,  am  I 
not?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Belville.     "  I  only  shot  it  for  you." 


86         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"  How  can  you  lay  the  poor  creature's  death  on  me  ?" 
said  she  reproachfully.  "But  what  lovely  down,  and 
so  much  of  it!"  she  added,  turning  up  the  feathers; 
and  then  said,  archly,  "  couldn't  you  get  the  other  two  ?" 

A  few  moments  more  brought  them  within  sight  of 
the  sea.  Long,  lazy  breakers  were  booming  with  per- 
functory grumble  upon  the  shore,  and  beyond  them  lay 
sleeping  the  deep,  gentle  monster,  its  soft  blue  face 
reflecting  the  smiling  vault  above,  more  like  a  mill-pond 
on  a  still  summer  day  than  the  mightiest  of  oceans. 

And  now  the  "  honk"  of  the  old  gray  goose,  which  they 
had  heard  at  intervals  ever  since  they  reached  the 
ranch,  came  ringing  in  from  a  hundred  directions,  until 
the  deep,  mellow  tones  mingled  in  one  uproarious  din. 
Hundreds  of  geese  were  rising  here  and  there,  hundreds 
were  riding  the  light  ripples  of  the  bays  and  inlets,  hun- 
dreds standing  along  the  shores  and  on  the  flats  and 
meadows. 

Belville  drove  to  a  piece  of  low  mesa,  or  table-land,  on 
one  side,  where  stood  great  flocks  of  geese  that  went 
waddling  off  a  few  steps  and  rose  in  flight  as  the  wagon 
came  on.  Far  off  along  the  mesa,  looking  like  bands 
of  sheep,  were  flocks  of  sand-hill  cranes.  Along  the 
sloughs  ducks  in  varied  flocks  were  whizzing,  while 
gulls  and  numerous  other  sea-birds  were  flapping  lazily 
about.  * 

"  We  had  better  make  a  specialty  of  geese  to-day," 
said  Belville.  "I'll  take  you  to  Temecula,  a  much  bet- 
ter place  for  ducks,  same  other  day.  Now  I  want  you 
to  stay  where  I  put  you,  please.  Keep  perfectly  still 
when  anything  comes,  and  don't  move  a  muscle  until  it 


AMONG   THE   GEESE  AND   CRANES.  87 

is  within  good  shot.  Hide  as  close  as  you  can,  have 
plenty  of  patience,  and  don't  shoot  at  anything  unless 
you  can  see  its  eyes  or  hear  its  wings  plainly.  Stay  in 
one  place,  and  don't  leave  it  because  you  think  you  see  a 
better  one  somewhere  else." 

He  then  placed  Norton  in  the  grassy  head  of  a  little 
gulch  into  which  the  sun  was  shining  warmly.  Miss 
Norton  he  posted  in  a  little  clump  of  bushes  in  the 
head  of  another  little  gulch  about  two  hundred  yards 
farther  on.  He  and  Laura  then  went  some  three  hundred 
yards  beyond,  to  a  large  bush  of  the  Heteromeles  arbuti- 
folia  that  stood  at  the  head  of  another  little  grassy  gulch. 

"  I'll  stay  here  with  you  long  enough  to  show  you  how, 
and  then  will  go  to  another  place,"  he  said  to  his  com- 
panion. 

"  It  seems  almost  incredible  that  this  is  only  the  last 
week  of  February,"  said  she,  looking  at  the  rank  mat  of 
alfileria  that  lay  all  around  her  with  its  little  pink  blos- 
soms and  long  pin-like  seed. 

A  deep,  silvery  "honk"  so  close  that  it  thrilled  her  to 
the  soul,  startled  her  from  her  composure,  and  as  she 
seized  the  gun  a  quick  wtff,  iviff,  miff  of  heavy  wings  in 
sheering  flight  told  her  that  she  had  been  seen.  Before 
she  could  get  into  position  to  shoot,  the  geese  were  some 
eighty  yards  away  and  drifting  off  to  one  side. 

Belville  sat  laughing  and  unconcerned. 

"You  see  you've  got  something  besides  an  ordinary 
goose  to  deal  with,"  he  said.  "He  who  takes  the  Anser 
Canadensis  for  a  fool  is  badly  mistaken.  Now,  if  you  had 
been  perfectly  still  with  your  hand  on  your  gun  and  the 
gun  in  such  position  that  you  could  raise  it  in  a  moment, 


88          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

that  flock  would  have  come  directly  over  you.  These 
are  not  at  all  like  Anser  Humanus.  They  are  not  at  all 
susceptible,  and  are  very  shy  of  a  lady." 

"They  don't  look  as  if  they  had  a  bit  of  romance 
about  them,"  Laura  responded.  "The  human  goose 
generally  has  too  much." 

"That  is  why  he  is  so  easy  to  capture,  I  suppose. 
But  now  crouch  low  and  don't  move.  Look  up  there." 

A  long  string  of  white  birds  with  black-tipped  wings 
was  bearing  down  upon  them  from  the  north,  not  ovei 
twenty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ground.  They  seemed 
nearly  as  large  as  the  gray  goose,  but  flew  with  a  more 
rapid  wing  and  made  a  hoarse  "gaak,  gaakj"  as  they 
came  along. 

"Now  let  slip  the  dogs  of  war!"  whispered  Belville,  as 
the  birds  were  about  twenty  yards  from  the  bush. 

The  gun  flashed,  there  was  a  tremendous  bustle  and 
beating  of  wings  and  a  wild  array  of  flashing  white  and 
black  in  the  air,  and  one  of  the  flock  with  broken  pinion 
came  whirling  down  almost  upon  her  head. 

"  What  a  beauty ! ,  What  is  it  ?"  she  exclaimed,  as  Bel- 
ville caught  it.  "  A  white  goose,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  That's  the  white  goose,  or  white  brant  as  they  are 
sometimes  called.  That  was  splendidly  done  for  your 
first  attempt;  but  as  these  geese  are  not  very  good  you 
had  better  reserve  your  energies  for  the  others." 

"  Then  why  did  you  let  me  kill  the  poor  thing?" 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  tiink  you  would  hit  any." 

"And  you  expected  to  have  a  good  laugh  at  me?" 

"  No,  I  should  have  felt  only  sorry  at  the  failure  of  so 
promising  a  disciple," 


AMONG    THE   GEESE  AND   CRANES.  89 

"And  do  you  think  me  really  promising?  Shall  I 
really  learn  to  shoot  ?" 

"  If  you  continue  as  you  have  begun,  you  certainly  will." 

At  this  moment  they  heard  the  bang !  of  a  gun  from 
Norton's  stand  and  a  confused  huddle  of  swerving  geese 
above  it,  but  never  a  sound  of  falling  game.  Away 
drifted  the  prey  over  where  his  sister  was,  and  a  report 
from  her  gun  sent  them  all  climbing  heavenward. 

".Miss  Norton's  gun  is  too  lightly  loaded,  I'm  afraid," 
said  Belville.  "  But  I  was  afraid  to  load  her  cartridges 
heavier,  as  she  is  not  used  to  shooting.  You  have  the 
heavier  gun  which  does  not  kick  so  much." 

A  few  minutes  more  and  a  V-shaped  bunch  of  large 
dark  birds  with  slowly  moving  wing  and  long  necks  out- 
stretched came  swinging  down  upon  them  with  a  clear, 
liquid-toned  4<  honk,  honk!" 

"Don't  move  a  muscle!"  whispered  Belville.  "Now 
salute  them!"  he  said,  half  a  minute  later,  as  he  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  began  to  dispense  hissing  lead  from  his 
own  rifle. 

Dark  and  bewildering  was  the  confusion  of  big 
bodies,  huge  wings,  and  outstretched  necks  into  which 
Laura  fired ;  but  one  only  came  down,  and  that  one  shot 
through  with  a  ball  from  Belville 's  rifle. 

"How  could  I  have  missed  the  rest?"  she  asked  in 
wonder. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  some  fair  enchantress  shoot  af  a 

whole  flock  of  the  Anser  Humanus  without  hitting  any?' 

"One  generally  hits  them  all,"  she  answered  defiantly. 

"  I  stand  corrected.    But  none  were  mortally  wounded 

this  time — feathers  only  ruffled  a  little." 


90         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"Proceed  with  your  illustration." 

"If  she  would  take  a  dead  aim  on  some  particular  one 
she  might  wing  him." 

"  Even  so.     I'll  try  and  do  it  next  time. 

"It's  the  only  safe  rule  in  shooting  at  a  flock  of  any 
kind  to  pick  out  a  single  bird.    And  with  large  birds  this 
is   indispensable.      Those   geese  were   not  over  fifteen] 
yards  distant,  and  at  that  distance  shot  from  that  gun 
does  not  scatter  six  inches." 

*'  Hadn't  you  better  take  the  gun  ?  It's  a  pity  to  spoil 
your  pleasure.  You  could  have  easily  shot  two  with  it 
that  time,"  said  Laura. 

"  But  I  didn't  come  to  procure  nutriment,  nor  to  make 
a  big  score  to  boast  over.  I  detest  hunting  for  either  of 
such  purposes.  Of  course  I  like  to  get  something,  but  I \ 
would  rather  shoot  two  geese  flying  with  a  rifle  than  ten 
with  a  shot-gun.  The  two  are  enough  when  you  get 
them,  and  the  skill  required  to  get  them  with  a  rifle  is 
five  times  that  necessary  with  a  shot-gun." 

"  Oh,  I  see  !  It's  the  case  of  bow  versus  gun  in  another 
shape.  I  wish  I  had  my  bow  with  me," 

"  I  think  you  will  find  the  murderous  gun  requires 
skill  enough  at  first  to  sufficiently  amuse  you,  When 
you  cloy  on  the  ease  of  shooting  with  that,  the  rifle  will 
then  afford  some  scope  to  your  desire  to  do  something 
not  too  easy.  When  you  get  satiated  with  the  ease  of 
hitting  with  that  again,  you  can  fall  back  on  the  pistol. 
And  behind  them  all  as  a  last  resort,  when  wearied  with 
your  own  skill,  stands  the  immortal  long-bow." 

"  How  sarcastic  you  are  about  the  bow  !  It's  a  noble 
weapon,"  said  she  with  an  affected  pettishness. 


AMONG    THE   GEESE  AND   CRANES.  91 

"  So  it  is.  Only  too  noble  for  common  use,  on  flying 
game.  See  now  yonder  great  birds  that  seem  to  be  only 
floating  in  the  air,  whose  clear  penetrating  cry  we  hear 
so  far  away.  What  could  the  bow  do  with  them  ?  I  de- 
clare, they  are  coming  this  way,  too !  Here,  let  me  put 
some  long-range  cartridges  in  your  gun,  for  they  are 
high  up.  Now  keep  still  as  death,  and  don't  move  even 
an  eyelid  until  they  are  over  us." 

Louder  and  clearer  came  the  tremolo  of  that  piercing 
note  the  sand-hill  crane  sends  from  on  high ;  and  swiftly 
the  huge  birds  came  sailing  on,  though  to  the  eye  their 
flight  seems  slow. 

"  Shoot  at  the  leader,"  he  whispered,  as  they  swept  by 
some  fifty  yards  to  the  right  and  the  same  distance  above 
the  ground 

At  the  report,  one  ashen-gray  body,  an  awkward 
looking  conglomeration  of  long  neck  and  legs  and  great 
wings  came  whirling  and  flapping  down  amid  the  ring- 
ing "  gr-r-r-r-o-o-o,  gr-r-r-r-o-o-o  T  of  its  fast-scatter- 
ing comrades.  It  landed  on  its  feet  and  started  off  on 
a  dignified  walk. 

As  Belville  and  Laura  ran  up  to  it,  it  rose  up,  tall 
almost  as  a  nian,  with  the  feathers  on  its  head  bristled 
up  and  its  long  dagger-like  beak  aimed  at  the  party. 
Its  eyes  scintillated  with  strange  fire  and  its  whole  as- 
pect bespoke  defiance. 

"  Keep  back  !"  said  Belville,  "  they're  a  dangerous  kind 
of  snipe.  You  keep  him  at  bay  until  I  can  get  a  rope. 
He's  only  wing-tipped." 

He  ran  back  to  the  wagon  and  got  a  piece  of  rope,  in 


92        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

which  he  made  a  running  noose,  and  coiling  it  like  a 
riata  threw  it  over  the  head  of  the  bird. 

"  Now  hold  this,"  said  he,  handing  the  end  to  Laura, 
"  and  if  he  comes  at  you,  run  and  keep  your  face  away 
from  him." 

He  then  took  some  small  cord,  and  going  to  the 
opposite  side  easily  noosed  the  crane,  when  it  drew  the 
first  cord  tight.  It  was  then  the  work  of  only  a  moment 
to  muffle  the  great  beak  with  a  handkerchjef  and  a  buck- 
skin glove,  and  to  hobble  the  long  legs,  and  the  captive 
was  safe. 

"  And  now  what  will  you  do  with  your  elephant  ?"  said 
Belville. 

Laura  looked  at  the  prisoner  with  admiration  and 
pride ;  her  dark  eyes  sparkled  in  the  sun,  and  her  cheeks 
were  flushed  as  with  wine.  Belville  thought  he  had  never 
seen  any  one  so  handsome  as  she  appeared  at  that  mo- 
ment. 

"I'll  keep  him  for  you  to  take  home,  if  you  wish," 
Belville  offered.  "  These  birds  make  very  gentle  pets,  and 
are  cunning  as  can  be.  Such  a  dandy  as  that  would 
make  a  rare  sensation  in  Boston.  We'll  go  into  part- 
nership with  him  immediately,"  he  added,  as  he  cut  a 
stake  and  fastened  the  bird  on  the  sod  about  twenty  yards 
from  their  hiding-place,  and  then  took  off  the  muffling 
from  his  bill. 

They  sat  there  half  an  hour  more,  but  nothing  came 
near.  A  few  flocks  of  geese  and  brant  flapped  lazily  by 
out  of  reach.  The  captive  decoy  trilled  out  occasion- 
ally a  cry  to  his  distant  friends  on  the  mesa.  Troops 
of  geese  and  brant  were  seen  standing  on  the  grass  far 


-AMONG    THE   GEESE  AND   CRANES.  93 

out  of  shot;  and  there  was  an  occasional  flash  and 
smoke  from  the  blinds  where  Norton  and  his  sister  were, 
but  nothing  falling.  Belville  seemed  much  more  interest- 
ed in  talking  to  Laura  than  in  watching  for  game,  and  was 
making  some  extravagant-sounding  promises  about  get- 
ting her  a  shot  at  a  deer,  when  a  shrill  " gr-r-r-o-o-o  /" 
above  made  him  drop  a  cigar  he  had  just  lit.  A  long 
string  of  cranes  with  stiffened  wings  outspread  was  slid- 
ing down  the  air  directly  toward  the  captive,  who  also 
was  making  some  apparently  very  expressive  remarks. 

Unable  to  restrain  her  impatience,  and  deceived  in 
distance  by  the  immense  size  of  the  approaching  birds, 
Laura  fired  before  they  got  within  sixty  yards  of  her, 
and  as  they  bounded  upward  and  swerved  to  either  side 
she  sent  the  second  barrel  into  the  flapping  mass  of  gray. 
Three  balls  from  Belville's  rifle  spun  whizzing  among 
them,  but  not  even  a  feather  came  as  a  result. 

"  You'd  better  take  the  gun  and  stay  here  alone,"  said 
Laura,  "else  we  will  get  nothing  at  all.  I'll  go  back  to 
the  wagon,  where  I  will  not  disturb  any  one." 

"  Then  I'll  go  too.  I'll  try  and  get  you  a  shot  out  of 
the  wagon.  I  don't  know  how  it  will  work,  for  they  are 
wild  now,  but  early  in  the  season  a  wagon  can  often  be 
driven  close  enough  for  a  shot.  But,  if  we  are  not  com- 
ing back  here,  as  we  p'robably  shall  not,  we  had  better 
release  this  crane,  and  let  him  do  the  best  he  can  without 
our  protecting  care." 

"  We'll  have  to  leave  you  here  for  the  present,"  he 
said,  as  they  passed  Norton  and  his  sister.  "  We  are 
going  to  try  for  a  shot  from  the  wagon,  and  want  it  as 
light  as  possible  for  fast  driving." 


94  RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

He  took  out  the  back  seat  and  all  superfluous  loading, 
and  drove  out  with  Laura  upon  the  long  stretch  of  sod  that 
sloped  away  to  the  sea.  He  swung  around  to  the  wind- 
ward side  of  a  large  flock  of  geese,  and  started  on  a  line 
that  would  carry  him  some  thirty  yards  to  one  side  of 
them, 

"Now,"  said  he,  "  keep  your  gun  ready,  but  don't  look 
at  them  at  all  until  I  slacken  the  speed  of  the  wagon. 
Then  shoot  as  quick  as  you  can." 

Looking  straight  ahead,  yet  watching  from  the  corner  of 
his  eye,  he  sent  the  horses  on  a  spinning  trot.  The  great 
birds  sat  watching  them  until  they  had  come  within  fifty 
yards.  Then  they  began  to  waddle  a  little,  and  as  Bel- 
ville  hurriedly  stopped  the  wagon  they  rose  in  a  clanging 
hubbub.  Laura  fired,  but  nothing  stopped,  and  far  and 
near  the  mesa  resounded  with  their  cries. 

"  The  wind  is  not  strong  enough  to  make  them  rise 
toward  us,  as  I  had  hoped,"  he  said.  "  But  we'll  try  that 
flock  yonder." 

He  pointed  to  a  row  of  distant  heads  that  looked  like 
a  line  of  stakes  just  visible  above  the  grass,  and  headed 
the  wagon  for  it.  "  Try  now  and  shoot  without  any 
stopping,"  he  said. 

The    wagon    whirled     past    the    birds    within     forty 
yards  of  them,   but  the  first  shot  went   above  and   the 
second  below  this  flock,  which  was   one   of  gray  brant. 
As  they  disappeared  with  a  "  clank-a-lank  !  clank-lank  /' 
Laura  said : 

"  Doctor,  we  shall  go  home  without  anything,  at  this 
rate.  Let  me  drive  and  you  shoot." 

"  Happy  thought !    I  never  yet  saw  a  lady  that  couldn't 


AMONG    THE   GEESE  AND   CRANES.  95 

drive  fast  enough.  But  I'm  afraid  you'll  go  so  fast 
you'll  carry  the  shot  a  mile  or  so  beyond.  Perhaps  I'd 
better  shoot  from  here  as  soon  as  you  start." 

"  Spare  thy  wit  until  afterward.    I've  driven  in  the  city." 

"  So  have  I.  I  drove  my  mother  nearly  crazy,"  said  he. 
as  he  handed  her  the  reins,  and  she  drove  rapidly 
towards  another  flock  of  the  great  Canada  geese. 

Sweet  delirium  !  who  that  has  felt  it  does  not  enjoy 
it  ?  If  there  be  any  pleasant  road  into  the  jaws  of  death, 
if  ever  there  be  a  time  when  man  feels  a  sweet  resigna- 
tion, it  is  when  whirled  along  at  a  break-neck  pace  by 
some  fair  feminine  driver  who  knows  nothing  of  danger, 
and  not  much  of  driving  except  to  apply  the  whip.  So 
thought  Belville  as  he  was  rattled,  bumped,  bounced,  and 
banged  in  half  a  minute's  time  up  to  within  thirty-five 
yards  of  the  astonished  geese.  They  rose  in  a  cloud  of 
black,  gray,  and  white,  the  air  thick  with  flapping  pin- 
ions; and  more  by  good  fortune  than  otherwise,  for  it 
was  impossible  to  take  aim,  the  first  barrel  of  Belville's  gun 
rained  its  chilled  shot  into  the  very  thickest  part  of  the 
flock  and  sent  four  of  them  to  earth,  sprawling.  Before 
he  could  pull  the  second  trigger  he  was  careering  along 
beyond  them,  out  of  shot. 

"Isn't  this  just  ecstatic!"  exclaimed  the  fair  steed- 
compeller,  as  with  Belville's  aid  she  stopped  the  horses 
some  distance  beyond  where  the  geese  were. 

"  Y-e-h  !"  said  he,  catching  his  breath,  "  I'm  not  at  all 
opposed  to  dying  of  ecstasy,  and  rather  prefer  that  meth- 
od of  translation.  But  to  tell  the  truth,"  he  added  in  a 
serious  whisper,  "  I  am  not  exactly  prepared.  I  should 
like  to  make  a  will  first — " 


9G         RIFLE,    ROD  AND    GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

"  Why,  that  wasn't  fast !  "  she  exclaimed,  Belville 
looked  full  in  her  eyes  for  a  moment.  With  upturned 
face,  smiling  and  sweet,  she  returned  his  gaze ;  and,  with 
eyes  full  of  inquiry  and  innocence,  said  : 

"  Did  you  really  think  that  fast?" 

"  Oh  no.  But  the  geese  seemed  to  think  so,  and  it's 
a  pity  to  deceive  the  poor  innocent  things." 

"  I'll  try  and  drive  a  little  slower,  if  you  wish." 

"  For  the  sake  of  the  geese,  please  make  the  effort  as 
strenuous  as  possible.  But  be  sure  and  don't  let  them 
know  what  you  are  driving  at." 

Half  a  mile  over  the  carpet  of  alfileria  brought  them  in 
sight  of  a  flock  of  sand-hill  cranes  standing  like  so 
many  sheep  along  a  sunny  slope  of  shimmering  green. 
Laura  took  the  reins,  and  the  whip  flashed  over  the 
horses'  backs.  The  plain,  so  smooth  and  hard  for  ordi- 
nary driving,  suddenly  became  like  a  corduroy  road  as 
they  ricochetted  over  its  gentle  swells.  Before  Bel- 
ville could  say  a  word,  the  fast-galloping  team  had 
cleared  a  hundred  yards ;  the  cranes  were  getting  rest- 
less, and  the  distance  that  yet  lay  between  them  and  the 
wagon  was  glimmering  fast  away.  Belville  felt  sweet  resig- 
nation again  stealing  over  him,  and  he  cocked  his  gun  to 
shoot.  In  a  twinkling  there  was  a  bump,  a  crack,  and  a 
smash,  and  he  was  whirling  in  a  headlong  plunge  to  earth, 
with  Laura  following  him  with  a  death-like  grip  on  the 
whip.  The  fore  wheel  on  his  side  had  shed  its  tire  some 
yards  behind  and,  striking  the  skull  of  a  functus  officio  ox, 
had  let  Belville's  corner  of  the  wagon  rather  suddenly 
down. 

He  picked  himself  up,  and  gave  a  look   at  the   flying 


AMONG    THE   GEESE  AND  CRANES.  97 

team  with  its  three-wheeled  attachment,  and  a  lambent 
smile  played  over  his  scratched  and  grass-stained  face  as 
Laura  rose,  breathless  but  unhurt. 

"  What  a  narrow  escape !"  she  gasped.  "  Thank  Heaven 
that—" 

"  The  lunch  basket  is  safe.  I  took  it  out  before  we 
started,"  he  interrupted  gravely. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

NEW  TACTICS. 

positively  shall  kill  a  goose  before  you  leave 


here,"  said  Belville  to  Laura  next  morning. 
"  You  came  pretty  near  to  killing  one  yesterday,  but  to-day 
I'm  bound  you  shall  succeed  —  though  not  exactly  in  the 
way  you  tried  it  yesterday.  We  will  drive  up  to  the  Laguna, 
a  mile  or  so  above  the  house,  and  try  a  trick  on  them. 
It's  a  mean  one,  I  confess,  but  then  what's  to  be  done  ? 
To-night  we  will  try  and  meet  some  by  moonlight  alone 
as  they  fly  in  to  roost.  But  to-day  I  propose  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  their  vanity." 

So  saying,  he  put  into  the  wagon  which  he  had  obtained 
a  large  looking-glass  that  he  had  borrowed  from  the 
house,  along  with  some  strips  of  wood,  some  string,  screws, 
and  other  things.  Arriving  at  the  Laguna,  he  fastened 
the  looking-glass  in  front  of  a  little  skiff  that  was  there, 
so  that  it  hung  down  to  the  water  and  concealed  the  boat 
completely. 

He  then  fastened  a  piece  of  broken  looking-glass  to  a 
split  stick  and  lashed  it  to  the  boat,  so  that  it  projected 
sidewise  from  the  bow  and  just  beyond  the  line  of  the 
edge  of  the  glass  in  front,  giving  to  those  in  the  boat  a 
view  of  everything  ahead.  Then,  when  all  was  ready, 
he  and  Laura  pushed  off,  while  Norton  and  his  sister 
watched  them  from  the  shore. 

"  It  will  be  some  time  before  the  geese  come  in.  as  they 


NEW  TACTICS.  99 

are  off  feeding,"  said  Belville.      In  the  meantime  we  will 
let  those  swans  take  a  look  at  themselves." 

While  approaching  the  Lagima  they  had  seen  four 
swans  sailing  on  its  smooth  face,  and  Belville,  placing 
Laura  behind  the  glass,  and  getting  on  his  knees  and 
stooping  low,  sculled  the  boat  with  one  hand  out  into 
the  open  water. 

It  was  slow  traveling,  but  the  space  that  lay  between 
them  and  the  swans  was  gradually  lessening.  Laura 
and  Belville  could  see  the  stately  birds  in  the  small  piece 
of  glass  at  the  bow,  looming  up  larger  and  larger  on  the 
shining  water,  moving  to  and  fro,  turning,  floating  and 
sailing  with  admirable  ease  and  grace.  Soon  they  began 
to  stand  out  higher  and  higher  from  the  water.  And 
now  their  dark  bills  are  plainly  visible,  and  shine  in  the 
morning  sun  as  they  arch  their  proud  necks  and  turn 
their  eyes  toward  the  boat. 

"They're  admiring  themselves,  or  think  they  see 
friends,"  whispered  Belville.  "  Let  them  look  a  while 
longer."  And  softly  the  boat  drifted  onward,  while  the 
swans  closed  up  together  and  held  a  consultation  about 
the  approaching  brethren  in  the  glass. 

"  Now  is  your  chance  for  edging!"  whispered  Belville. 
"  They  are  close  enough.  Such  lovely  down,  you  know  ! 
Be  sure  and  shoot  straight ;  for  it  makes  splendid 
trimming!" 

She  cocked  the  gun,  and,  as  she  raised  it,  there  was  a 
sudden  bang!  a  scream,  and  four  astonished  swans  rose  from 
the  water  with  skittering  flight  as  a  thousand  bits  of  one  of 
Don  Juan  Forster's  mirrors  flew  over  the  water  around 
them. 


>  ROD  AND~  GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 
.  ^X 

"  Such  lovely  down !"  said  Belville,  with  a  commiserat- 
ing laugh. 

"It  was  your  fault,"  said  Laura,  with  rueful  face. 
"  Look  at  that,  too,"  she  added,  pointing  to  a  hole  in  the 
center  of  the  glass  big  enough  to  put  her  arm  through. 

"Why,  that's  just  what  I  wanted.  I  was  thinking 
about  doing  that  myself." 

"  Doctor,  I  would  like  to  ask  one  question,  if  not  too 
impertinent." 

"  I  burn  to  respond." 

"  It  is  this.     Were  you  ever  disconcerted  ?" 

"  Yes,  once.  A  fashionable  young  mother  once  invited 
me  to  kiss  her  baby." 

"  Why,  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!" 

"  Oh,  it's  very  common.  She  didn't,  of  course,  say  it 
in  that  way.  She  only  told  the  baby  to  '  give  Dr.  Belville 
a  nice  kiss.'  But  really  that  glass  is  better  for  having  that 
hole  in  it.  You  can  put  the  gun  through  it  and  get  a 
shot  at  them  before  they  fly,  as  they  would  do  the  instant 
you  showed  your  head  above  the  glass." 

"But  the  swans  are  gone  !"  she  said  sorrowfully,  as  she 
pointed  to  four  snowy  flakes  drifting  seaward  down  the 
bright  blue  sky. 

"  But  the  geese  will  soon  be  here." 

"  And  then  I'll  have  to  let  Evy  shoot.  It  would  not 
be  fair  for  me  to  do  it  all." 

"  As  you  will.  But  really  the  loss  of  the  swans  amounts 
to  little.  It  is  considered  even  by  good  sportsmen  quite 
an  achievement  to  get  a  swan.  To  my  mind  it  is  not  a 
very  illustrious  achievement.  I  shot  that  one  yesterday 
only  because  it  was  the  first  we  had  seen  within  shot, 


NEW  TACTICS.  101 

and  the  first  I  had  got  a  chance  at  for  two  years.  I 
could  easily  have  brought  my  gun  and  killed  one  or  two 
of  these  before  they  got  out  of  reach.  The  swan  is  a 
rare,  beautiful  and  harmless  bird,  but  of  little  or  no  value 
to  eat,  being  generally  tough.  What  few  there  are  should 
be  spared.  I  hope  to  see  the  day  when  the  man  who 
delights  to  murder  everything  rare,  the  man  who  knocks 
over  every  egret  or  other  beautiful  bird,  or  kills  any  other 
harmless  but  worthless  bird,  will  be  choked  off  by  the 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals." 

"  Well,  I  think  you  are  right.  Of  course  I  cared  but 
little,  after  all,  for  the  down,  and  the  death  of  one  of 
the  beautiful  things  could  have  added  nothing  to  the 
pleasure  of — " 

"Shooting  a  looking-glass?  No,  I  doubt  if  it  could. 
Well,  let's  go  ashore  and  wait  for  the  geese." 

Laura  was  well  chaffed  by  the  Nortons,  when  she 
landed,  for  the  extensive  slaughter  she  had  made — in 
looking-glass!  and  she  laughed  as  heartily  as  the  rest  at 
her  own  expense. 

An  hour  or  more  passed  away  with  little  but  the*  lazy 
flap  of  some  pelicans  above  the  Laguna,  the  squeal  of  mud- 
hens  in  the  rushes  along  the  edge,  the  "  wauk  "  of  herons, 
the  quack  of  a  few  mallards,  and  the  whistle  of  a  few 
passing  widgeon ;  while  the  party,  not  caring  to  molest 
anything  but  geese,  sat  sunning  themselves  on  the  high 
green  banks  on  the  water's  edge. 

But  hark  !  Pure,  deep,  and  mellow  rings  out  a  welcome 
tone  from  yonder  sky.  Each  pulse  bounds  faster  as  the 
penetrating  note  rolls  in,  soft  and  clear  as  that  of  a 
French  horn,  and  each  eye  is  turned  toward  where  the 


102        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

verdant  crest  of  a  far-off  range  of  hills  fades  into  the  blue 
beyond,  Then  comes  a  dark  dotted  line  fast  widening 
out,  and  beyond  it  is  another  and  still  another  dim  line 
just  looming  up  from  the  blue  depths  beyond;  while  faster, 
clearer,  and  louder,  comes  the  tumultuous  clangor  of 
trumpet-tones. 

"  Now,  will  you  please  hide  in  the  head  of  that  gulch  ?" 
said  Belville  to  Laura,  "  and  do  you,  Norton,  lie  flat  in 
that  lot  of  sage  beyond.  They  will  swing  over  this  high 
ground  before  they  light  in  the  Laguna." 

He  then  put  Miss  Norton  at  the  "  port-hole"  in  the 
glass,  and  running  the  boat  down  along  the  outer  edge  of 
the  reeds,  he  backed  it  out  of  sight  into  a  small  opening. 

"We'll  wait  here,"  he  said,  "till  a  good  flock  lights 
out  ahead  of  us,  and  then  we  will  make  a  sally." 

"  Laura,"  said  Norton,  tarrying  at  the  place  where  she 
was  to  stop,  instead  of  going  on  to  his  own  position,  "I'm 
glad  he  took  Evy  in  the  boat." 

"  I  told  him  to." 

"  Oh  !  you  did,  eh  ?     And  what  did  he  say  ?" 

"  He  said  he  would,  of  course." 

"  Did  he  say  it  willingly  ?" 

"  What  a  question,  Charley  !     Why  ?" 

"  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  think  he  is  too  much  inclined 
to  monopolize  you." 

"  And  you  are  a  trifle  jealous,  you  naughty  boy  ?" 

"  Oh  no.  Only  I  wouldn't  encourage  any  such  mo- 
nopoly, if  I  were  you.  If  he  is  going  to  accompany  us 
on  the  whole  tour,  as  we  have  arranged,  it  would  be 
rather  slow  for  Evy  if  he  paid  all  his  attention  to  you, 


NEW   TACTICS.  103 

"  I  see  your  meaning.  Don't  be  afraid,  Charley,  that 
I'll  neglect  you  ;"  and  she  kissed  him,  and  tapped  his 
cheek  with  her  hand  in  gentle  reproach.  "  Now,  darling, 
you  must  get  out  of  sight  quick,  for  here  come  the  birds, 
right  toward  us,  too." 

From  an  elevation  of  over  one  thousand  feet  there 
came,  winding  down  in  a  curve  half  a  mile  long,  a  veri- 
table battalion  of  large,  dark  gray  birds  with  long, 
arrowy  necks  outstretched.  Swiftly,  yet  with  majestic 
grace,  they  slid  down  the  soft  and  sunlit  air,  not  a  wing 
moving,  all  silent  as  death,  yet  gliding  swiftly  down  a 
gigantic  spiral  course  which  was  winding  unmistakably 
toward  Laura.  Immovable  as  the  rocks  both  she  and 
Norton  remained,  until  the  soft  hiss  of  sailing  pinions 
was  heard  almost  over  them.  Then  came  an  uproar  of 
bang  !  whang  !  bang  !  bang  !  the  wiff,  wiff,  wiff !  of 
scores  of  heavy  wings  swiftly  beating  the  air,  the  "honk 
k-wonk,  onk"  of  dozens  of  trumpet-throats,  and  in  a 
moment  the  birds  were  drifting  swiftly  away. 

"Is  it  possible  we  didn't  get  any  ?"  said  Norton,  scru- 
tinizing the  air  in  vain  for  even  a  feather.  "  I  didn't 
suppose  we  could  miss  such  a  crowd  as  that." 

"  I'm  daily  discovering  that  it's  not  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world  to  hit  even  a  large  and  slow-moving  mark 
with  the  gun.  But  the  more  I  find  this  out,  the  more  I 
love  the  gun,"  said  Laura. 

More  geese  were  appearing  in  the  distant  sky,  and  soon 
another  flock  came  curling  down  out  of  the  blue.  Fully 
a  thousand  feet  of  descent,  fully  half  a  mile  of  curve, 
without  a  wing  moving,  and  with  a  swish  !  plainly  audible 
on  shore,  they  settled  in  the  center  of  the  Laguna,  And 


104       RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

scarce  had  they  left  the  blue  vault  above,  when  another 
flock  appeared  far  behind  them.  But  these  birds  are 
smaller  and  move  with  more  rapid  wing  than  the  others, 
and  utter  a" 'clank-lank !  clank-lank!"  very  different  from 
the  tones  of  the  other  flock.  Soon  they  are  nearly  over 
the  edge  of  the  water,  and  suddenly,  as  if  caught  in  a 
whirlwind,  they  pitch,  tumble,  gyrate,  and  whirl  in  all 
sorts  of  motions  downward,  as  swiftly  as  if  struck  dead 
in  air.  Down,  down  they  reel  with  obstreperous  cackle, 
and  just  as  Laura  and  Norton  have  about  concluded  that 
they  are  either  very  drunk  or  something  worse,  they  catch 
themselves,  fall  into  a  long  crescent  line,  glide  smooth- 
ly down  to  the  water,  and  settle  beside  the  first  that  came. 

"  Those  are  the  gray  brant,  a  smaller  kind  of  goose," 
said  Belville  to  Evy.  "And  now  we'll  start.  Put  your 
artillery  through  that  port-hole  and  keep  it  perfectly 
still,  but  have  it  so  that  you  can  easily  pull  it  out  and 
aim  above  the  glass  for  the  second  shot.  Meanwhile  I 
will  row  towards  them." 

They  have  not  far  to  go  before  the  eyes  of  the  geese 
are  almost  visible.  A  few  strokes  more  are  given,  when 
the  muffling  that  Belville  has  put  on  the  oar  to  deaden 
the  sound  slips  off.  The  oar  makes  a  dull  noise  as  it  rubs 
the  oarlock  behind;  he  stops  it  instantly,  but  yet  too 
late,  for  the  air  throbs  with  the  beat  of  powerful  wings 
mingled  with  the  excited  cries  of  over  a  hundred  throats. 

"  Too  far !"  said  Belville,  as  his  companion  vainly  fired. 
"These  geese  have  been  tried  with  boats  before,  and 
know  right  well  the  sound  of  an  oar,  you  see ;  though  I 
doubt  if  any  one  has  tried  the  glass,  as  it  is  a  trick  that 
very  few  hunters  know." 


*NEW  TACTICS.  105 

They  retreated  to  the  opening  in  the  reeds  and  waited 
for  another  flock  to  light.  Not  long  had  they  to  wait ; 
for  beyond  the  rolling  green  in  the  southwest  dark  lines 
of  clamorous  birds  already  flecked  the  sky,  and  soon 
came  winding  down  the  air.  A  large  flock  lit  some  three 
hundred  yards  from  the  boat,  and  Belville  started  for  it, 
his  oar  again  being  muffled.  Softly  the  skiff  moved  on, 
the  geese  sitting  passive  and  careless.  Soon  they  turn 
their  heads  toward  the  on-coming  boat,  and  a  few  move 
a  little  way  toward  it. 

"Thirty  yards  more,  and  you  can  shoot,"  whispered 
Belville. 

There  was  a  soft  rush  of  outspread  wings,  accompanied 
by  a  low,  peculiar  chirping  note,  as  a  flock  of  brant  sped 
by  some  fifty  yards  above  this  spot,  and  the  geese  in  front 
suddenly  began  to  look  suspicious. 

"  Those  brant  alarmed  them,"  whispered  Belville.  "We 
-  must  be  very  careful." 

Slowly  and  softly  he  sculled  along,  and  so  carefully 
that  he  did  not  notice  that  the  boat  was  swinging  a  little 
sideways  with  the  rising  breeze  which  struck  on  the  back 
of  the  glass.  In  an  instant  fifty  or  more  geese  sprang 
flapping  up  from  the  water  in  front,  all  in  a  tumultuous 
huddle,  while  Evy  vainly  rained  the  shot  from  both  bar- 
rels of  her  gun  into  the  gray  and  white  mass. 

"  Too  far  again !"  said  Belville.  "  They're  a  tough  bird. 
Those  others  put  them  on  their  guard.  I  guess  we'll 
have  to  give  them  up  for  this  morning.  But  to-night  I 
think  we  will  hear  something  drop." 

Old  Phcebus  had  unhitched  his  wain,  and  Diana  had 


1UG          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

run  the  evening  train  high  up  in  the  eastern  sky,  when 
our  friends  again  appeared  upon  the  high  ground  along 
the  Laguna. 

"We  needn't  go  far  from  the  wagon,"  said  Belville. 
"  They  will  not  be  afraid  of  anything  when  it  is  dark." 

He  placed  Norton  near  the  wagon,  taking  out  a  seat 
for  him  to  sit  on.  Eveline  he  posted  one  hundred  yards 
farther  on. 

"  Miss  Wilbur  had  better  stand  about  another  hundred 
yards  away,  and  I  will  go  on  to  the  bank  of  the  Laguna," 
he  said. 

Soon  the  distant  birds  began  to  send  in  the  deep- 
toned  "honk)"  and  the  gray  brant  its  cackling  " clank- 
lank  ;"  and  very  soon,  from  the  dim  obscurity  around 
them,  loomed  up  into  full  view  against  the  starry  sky  a 
dark,  V-shaped  line  of  dots  that  quickly  changed  into 
large  bodies,  not  over  thirty  feet  up,  and  almost  directly 
over  Eveline. 

The  liquid  tones  thrilled  her  like  the  sudden  burst  of 
a  bugle-call  close  by.  Her  hands  trembled  as  she  raised 
her  gun,  and  her  heart  throbbed  wildly  as  along  its  bar- 
rels the  silver  moonlight  showed,  dimly  painted  on  the 
blue  above,  a  long  black  neck  and  head  right  in  line 
with  her  aim.  Quickly  her  tremulous  finger  touched  the 
trigger;  the  circle  of  darkness  around  was  for  an  instant 
illumined  by  a  long  jet  of  flame  ;  and  as  the  parted  waves 
of  darkness  again  closed  in  there  was  a  confused  wiff> 
wiff,  wiff,  a  sound  of  something  heavy  falling  at  her  feet, 
mingled  with  the  silver-toned  "honk,"  the  clangorous 
discord  of  distant  brant,  the  " gaak"  of  snow-geese,  and 
the  dolorous  "  gr-r-r-o-o-o"  of  far-off  traveling  cranes. 


NEW   TACTICS.  107 

A  feeling  such  as  she  had  never  known  stole  over  her 
as  she  picked  up  the  heavy,  dark  gander  from  the  sod, 
and  said  to  herself, 

"Ah  !  now  I  see  why  people  are  so  crazy  about  hunt- 
ing." 

Shortly  after,  two  long  flashes  darted  up  a  hundred 
yards  away,  and  the  quick  reports  of  the  guns  were  fol- 
lowed by  a  heavy  whop,  k-thump  !  on  the  ground. 

"  Well  done !  Miss  Laura,"  she  heard  in  the  voice  of 
Belville,  who  was  evidently  close  by  Laura  instead  of 
where  he  said  he  was  going.  "  That  was  a  splendid 
shot.  I  never  saw  one  learn  so  fast  as  you." 

"There's  nothing  like  a  good  teacher,  you  know,"  she 
replied. 

"An  apt  scholar  is  better,"  he  responded. 

"  Yes,  better  than  a  physician  who  neglects  his  patients 
to  play  with  a  gun." 

" Pcccavil  I  would  neglect  more  for  so  good  a 
scholar." 

"You  would  like  more  scholars,  then?" 

"No.     One  at  a  time  is  enough." 

"  Too  many  are  dangerous,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  very;  even  one  is  often  fatal." 

"I  meant  too  many  guns." 

"Well,  so  did  I." 

Evy  hardly  heard  this  last  remark,  for  the  "clank-lank" 
of  brant  had  come  to  be  delightfully  close,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment a  flock  emerged  from  the  darkness  just  ahead  of 
her.  As  she  was  about  to  shoot,  the  fire  from  Norton's 
gun,  streaming  heavenward  at  another  flock,  caused  her 
flock  to  swerve  and  huddle  in  the  air,  and  she  pulled  the 


108         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

trigger  fairly  at  the  center  of  a  black  chaotic  medley  of 
throbbing  wings  and  cackling  throats.  Biff,  whack, 
k-thump  !  came  down  four  on  the  grass,  followed  by  a 
yell  of  applause  from  Norton  and  Belville,  while  the 
smile  of  the  shooter  nearly  outshone  the  moon  sailing 
among  the  fleecy  billows  of  cloud.  For  half  an  hour 
more,  flash  after  flash  rent  the  stillness  of  the  night,  and 
many  a  heavy  thump  greeted  the  ear,  until  soon  the  cry 
of  the  last  departing  bird  died  away  in  the  vault  above, 
and  the  flight  of  birds  had  ceased  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

EASY   WORK    AT    DUCK-SHOOTING. 

THE  next  morning,  our  friends  started  again  under 
the  guidance  of  Belville,  and  were  early  whirling 
fast  over  the  prairie-like  mesa  of  the  southeast  corner 
of  the  great  rancho,  Santa  Margarita.  The  land  no 
longer  heaves  like  great  storrn-waves  with  curling  crests, 
but  rolls  before  them  like  the  ground-swell  of  the  peace- 
ful sea.  The  golden  blossoms  of  the  wild  alfalfa  begin 
to  glow  on  every  hand  ;  the  grayish-green  stalks  of  the 
white  sage,  one  of  the  finest  honey-plants  of  the  world, 
shoot  up  in  myriads;  the  wild  cucumber,  with  its 
drapery  of  light  green  and  white,  hangs  from  the  dark 
and  reddish  green  of  the  sumac ;  the  purple  flowers  of 
the  wild  pea  entwine  in  loving  embrace  the  ramiria ; 
the  bunch-grass  rears  its  slender  blades  among  the  thick 
mats  of  alfileria;  and  the  starry  eyes  of  the  violet  peer 
out  from  every  opening. 

Away  this  prairie  stretches  to  the  high  bluffs  of  the 
Temecula  River,  where  it  is  lost  in  the  foot-hills  of  the 
dark,  wavy  mountains  of  Santa  Rosa  ;  and  far  ahead  it 
rolls  away  into  the  green  dales  and  oak-filled  valleys  of 
the  rancho  of  Montserrate. 

Swiftly  our  friends  skimmed  its  northern  boundary. 
Past  hills  where  the  wild  lilac  of  California  oppressed 
the  air  with  its  rich  perfume ;  where  the  white  blossoms 


110        RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

of  the  tall  cercocarpus  betulatifolius  rivaled  the  intensity 
of  the  lilac's  pink ;  where  the  wild  gooseberry  stretched 
out  its  arms  full-hung  with  long  scarlet  trumpets ;  where 
the  bayonet  reared  its  gaudy  plumes,  and  even  the  dark, 
scraggly  adenostoma  of  the  chaparral  smiled  in  its  new 
spring  suit, — they  rolled  along  into  the  fair  plain  of  the 
Vallecito,  an  emerald  in  a  girdle  of  frowning  rough  hills. 
Then  on  through  a  gateway  of  rugged  mountains,  thick- 
studded  with  immense  boulders,  tangled  with  chaparral, 
dashed  here  and  there  with  a  struggling  live-oak,  they 
passed,  until  the  great,  snowy  mountains  of  Grey- 
back  and  San  Jacinto  loomed  like  sheeted  ghosts  in  the 
far-off  blue ;  until,  descending  into  the  valley  of  Teme- 
cula  and  crossing  a  dashing  creek  of  clear,  cold  water, 
they  reached  the  end  of  a  long  slough. 

"  See  there,"  said  Laura,  sorrowfully,  "  that  spoils  all 
our  fun !"  As  she  spoke,  she  pointed  to  a  sign-board  on 
a  post,  which  said  in  unmistakable  English  : 

NO  SHOOTING  HERE ! 

"Well,  I  know  better,"  said  Belville.  "  There's  just  as 
good  shooting  here  as  I  want,  anyhow.  Look  at  that 
bunch  of  cinnamon  teal  there,  already.  I'm  going  to  let 
you  do  the  shooting  now,  while  I  hold  the  horses.  There's 
no  hitching-place  here,  and  it  may  be  a  bad  country 
to  borrow  wagons  in,"  he  added,  with  a  mischievous  smile 
at  Laura. 

The  slough  before  them  was  two  or  three  miles  long 
and  only  a  few  feet  wide,  with  small,  narrow  ponds  here 
and  there,  the  banks  of  which  were  eight  or  ten  feet  high. 


EASY  WORK  AT  DUCK-SHOOTING,  HI 

"But  that  notice  means  that  we  can't  hunt  here,"  in- 
sisted Laura. 

14  Well,  I'm  sorry  to  insinuate  that  the  author  of  it  tells 
a  deliberate  whopper,"  he  answered,  "  for  it  is  just  the 
easiest  place  to  hunt  ducks  that  I  know  of,  and  that  is 
just  why  I  brought  you  here.  There  are  a  few  places 
where  a  lady  can  hunt  ducks." 

"But  it  means  there's  no  shooting  allowed"  said  she. 

"  By  all  means  let  us  shoot  softly,  then.  There's  a  lot 
of  cartridges  in  there  loaded  with  the  new  Dittmar  pow- 
der. It  shoots  in  a  whisper,  but  shoots  just  as  strongly 
as  the  other." 

"  Doctor,  I  guess  I'll  have  to  give  you  up  as — " 

"  Well,  I  can  stand  that ;  for  so  many  young  ladies 
have  already  done  so  that  I  am  quite  used  to  it." 

Belville  held  the  horses,  while  the  other  three,  on  foot, 
swung  around  over  the  smooth  plain  some  two  hundred 
yards,  so  as  to  approach  the  bank  of  the  slough  at  right 
angles.  They  got  to  within  fifteen  yards  of  it  before 
anything  moved;  when  suddenly  there  was  a  splash,  a 
funny  sort  of  a  "  quack,  quack,'*'  and  the  air  twenty  yards 
ahead  was  full  of  little  bodies  of  a  shining  cinnamon 
color,  with  whizzing  wings  of  gray  and  sky-blue.  Three 
barrels  roared  in  succession,  as  they  cleared  the  opposite 
bank,  and  two  of  the  flock  came  tumbling  on  the  green- 
sward ;  and  as  the  rest  scattered  in  wild  array,  two  more 
barrels  materially  accelerated  their  upward  career. 

"Only  two,  out  of  all  that  lot !"  said  Laura  in  a  dis- 
appointed tone,  as  Belville  drove  up. 

"Well,"  said  he,  encouragingly,"that's  doing  well  enough 
for  beginners.  I've  seen  as  many  shots  from  old  hands 


112         RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

bring  down  nothing  at  all.  But  if  each  had  taken  aim 
at  some  one  bird,  or  two,  instead  of  firing  at  the  flock, 
you  would  have  done  better." 

The  birds  of  California  are  not  remarkable  for  beauty, 
but  the  little  cinnamon  teal  has  few  peers  among  water- 
fowl. The  wood-duck  is  gorgeous,  but  too  gaudy ;  and 
the  mallard  is  beautiful,  but  bizarre.  But  this  little  chap, 
with  coat,  vest,  and  pants  of  bright  glossy  cinnamon,  and 
gray  and  sky-blue  wings,  whether  he  be  gliding  along 
the  edge  of  the  pond,  springing  aloft  from  danger  on 
swift-flashing  pinion,  or  lying  lifeless  upon  the  spangled 
sod,  is  the  very  embodiment  of  modest  beauty  and  un- 
assuming elegance.  Dull  must  be  the  soul  of  him  who 
can  pick  up  one  of  them  without  a  feeling  of  self-re- 
proach. Yet  who  can  stay  his  hand  from  the  trigger, 
when  he  sees  their  little  blue  wings  flashing  ? 

The  teal  had  flown  on  up  the  slough  and  lighted  about 
five  hundred  yards  off. 

"  Get  into  the  wagon,  please,"  said  Belville.  "  We  can 
drive  to  almost  every  pond  here.  We  shall  probably  see 
more  before  we  get  far." 

They  drove  along  the  bank  of  the  slough  for  a  little 
distance,  when  Belville,  pointing  to  some  ducks  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  yards  away,  said,  "  I  think  you  had 
better  go  as  you  did  before,  but  when  you  get  within 
shooting  distance  let  two  of  you  keep  down  while  the 
other  takes  a  shot  at  them  in  the  water.  Then  the 
two  can  shoot  as  the  birds  rise.  Those  are  sprig-tails, 
one  of  the  finest  kinds  of  duck." 

So  Laura  and  Norton  went  around  out  of  sight,  and 
came  up  to  the  edge  of  the  water,  stooping  low  as  they 


EASY  WORK  AT  DUCK-SHOOTING.  113 

approached.     As  Laura,  who  was  to  take  the  sitting  shot, 

cautiously  raised  her  head,  a  dozen  or  more  large  ducks 

with  long  gray  necks,  gray  backs,  white  "aprons,"  and 

two  long  thin  feathers  streaming  behind,  sprang  into  the 

air  at  twenty-five  yards'  distance.    Upward  they  mounted, 

with  two  barrels  vainly  roaring  below  them ;  then   they 

turned  away  up  the   slough,   while  two  more    fruitless 

1  shots  echoed  along  the  dark  green  hills  of  Santa   Rosa 

:  half  a  mile  away.     As  they  sailed  off  with  their  long 

i  forked  rudders  outspread,  Norton  looked  regretfully  after 

;  them,  and  remarked: 

"  There's  considerable  space  outside  of  even  a  very 

j  big  bird.     I  always  had  the  idea  that  to  hit  a  mark  like 

.  that  with   a  thing  that  scatters  like  a  shot-gun  was  a 

mere  boy's  trick ;  but,  judging  from  our  experience  on 

geese  and  on  these  fellows,  we  shall  find  it  quite  a  man's 

trick  before  we  learn  it." 

"Your  teal  are  in  that  little  pond  above,"  said  Bel- 
ville,  driving  up  again. 

"  I  guess  teal  are  our  forte"  said  Laura.     "  Let's  try 
them." 

As  they  went  up  to  where  the  teal  were,  Norton 
pointed  to  four  or  five  of  them  in  a  bunch  among  some 
grass  in  the  water.  He  fired,  and  brought  down  the 
whole  bunch — consisting  of  half  a  dozen  turtles  on  a 
dead  stick,  which  went  slipping  into  the  water  with  a 
splash  as  the  shot  glanced  harmlessly  from  their  shells 
At  the  same  time,  the  air  just  beyond  glistened  with  a 
flashing  sheen  of  cinnamon  and  blue,  as  thirty  or  more 
teal  started  from  behind  a  bunch  of  rushes. 

Norton  raised  his  gun  again,  caught  along  the  barrels 


114          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

a  glimpse  of  red  with  glimmering  spots  of  blue  on  either 
side,  and  pulled  the  trigger.  Two  of  the  flock  sank,  and 
as  the  rest  radiated  with  a  rush,  the  shot  from  his  sister's 
gun  spattered  harmlessly  along  the  water  beyond  them. 
Wheeling  suddenly,  they  closed  up  their  scattered  ranks 
and  started  whizzing  off  in  orderly  array,  when  Laura's 
gun  cracked,  and  the  hindermost  bird  came  gyrating  to 
the  ground. 

"Hurrah!  well  done!"  called  Belville  from  the  wagon. 
"  If  you  had  shot  a  little  ahead  of  them  you  might  have 
got  more ;  but  that  was  good  enough,  for  it  was  a  long 
shot,"  he  added,  driving  to  where  they  stood. 

"  Those  sprig-tail  lit  not  far  from  here,"  he  said,  as 
they  got  in  the  wagon. 

"  I  think  the  teal  afford  ample  scope  to  our  talents," 
said  Laura. 

"  I  will  put  you,  after  a  while,  where  you  will  have  a 
chance  at  some  under  full  headway.  Sometimes,  undei 
those  circumstances,  it  takes  two  persons  to  attend  to 
one  of  them." 

"  One  to  hit  if  the  other  misses  ?" 

"No.  One  to  say  'here  he  comes,'  another  to  say 
'  there  he  goes."1 

'*  Those  are  only  spoonbills,"  said  Belville,  as  they 
passed  almost  within  shot  of  another  flock  of  ducks. 

"They  don't  act  very  spooney,"  said  Norton,  as  the 
birds  vacated  their  quarters  with  expeditious  wing  anc 
vigorous  quack.  "  Why  didn't  you  stop  ?" 

"  They  are  not  a  highly  desirable  duck,  and  we  will 
find  plenty  of  a  better  kind." 

"  Nearly    all    Americans    speak    Spanish    here,    don't 


EASY  WORK  AT  DUCK-SHOOTING.  115 

they?"  asked  Miss  Norton,  seeing  a  Mexican  pass  by  talk- 
ing to  an  American.     "  I've  noticed  that  several  times." 

"Yes.  They  do  in  all  the  Spanish- American  coun- 
tries," answers  Belville.  "They  pride  themselves  very 
much  on  their  accomplishments  in  that  line.  But  it's 
generally  of  the  quality  of  the  German  spoken  by  a  young 
friend  of  mine  who  had  been  educated  abroad.  Coming 
down  street  with  me  one  morning,  and  not  knowing  that 
I  understood  a  word  of  the  language,  he  said  to  a  Ger- 
man friend  whom  we  met,  *  Gut  morgen,  mean  hair; 
hast  geheard  daz  die  bank  ist  gebusted  ?' " 

At  this  moment  a  flock  of  mallards  rose  from  a  pond 
just  ahead  with  a  great  amount  of  bustle,  their  brilliant 
green  heads  and  the  blue  and  white  of  their  throbbing 
wings  shining  bright  in  the  noonday  sun,  and  then  sped 
away. 

Belville  handed  the  reins  to  Norton  at  the  first  sound, 
seized  the  gun,  and,  just  as  the  ducks  got  fairly  started 
on  their  straight -away  course,  tranquilized  a  heavy 
green-headed  gentleman  that  was  cheering  on  his  labor- 
ing comrades  with  energetic  quacks.  Another  one  lit 
close  by  for  repairs,  a  stray  shot  having  "  impaired  his 
usefulness."  Norton  went  to  him  to  pick  him  up,  taking 
the  gun  along  by  Belville's  advice.  As  lie  approached 
the  duck  it  rose  with  as  vigorous  quack  as  if  nothing 
was  the  matter,  and  though  its  ascension  was  materially 
slower  than  before,  Norton  thought  it  rapid  enough,  and 
raised  the  gun.  Instantly  he  saw  along  the  barrel  the 
white  bands  and  delicate  glossy  green  curl  of  the  tail ; 
he  pulled  the  trigger,  and  the  duck  at  last  lay  flat. 

Driving  on,  they  came  in  sight  of  a  long  narrow  little 


116      RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

lagoon  which  was  dotted  with  hundreds  of  ducks,  some 
nearly  black,  some  colored  with  white,  blue,  green,  and 
cinnamon. 

"There  are  some  canvas-backs  and  red-heads,"  said 
Belville,  pointing  to  some  whitish-backed  ducks  with 
reddish  necks.  "And  plenty  of  mallards  too.  Now 
we'll  have  some  fun  if  we  can  only  find  good  hiding- 
places.  We  can't  very  well  drive  them  out  of  this,  and 
they'll  just  fly  from  one  end  of  the  lagoon  to  the  other. 
Now,  Miss  Laura,  if  you'll  go  around  and  hide  behind 
that  thing" — pointing  to  another  board  close  to  the 
water  with  "  No  shooting  here'*  painted  on  it. 

"  But  suppose  the  man  comes  ?"  she  interrupted,  look- 
ink  at  a  distant  house,  evincing  considerable  hesitation 
about  getting  out. 

"We'll  ask  him  how  he  expects  you  to  see  it  when 
you  are  behind  it." 

"But  it  is  probably  printed  on  both  sides." 

"  Then  get  underneath  it.  That's  where  you  want  to 
be,  anyhow.  Tell  him  we  don't  read  English  edge- 
ways." 

"But  suppose  he  tries  to  teach  me?" 

"  Oh,  there's  no  danger.  That  sign  is  only  to  keep 
off  a  certain  class  who  shoot  rifle-balls  anywhere  and  at 
anything  without  regard  to  cattle  or  horses  being  in 
range.  They'll  not  bother  us,  you  may  depend." 

Laura  went  to  the  sign-post  and  hid  behind  the  brush 
and  weeds  at  its  base,  but  not  without  some  reflections 
as  to  the  possible  consequences  of  the  act.  Norton 
remained  at  one  end  of  the  pond,  while  his  sister  went 
with  Belville  to  the  other.  Then  Belville  began  to  drive 


EASY  WORK  AT  DUCK-SHOOTING.  H7 

back  and  forth  to  stir  up  the  ducks  in  case  they  should 
light  too  far  from  any  of  the  guns. 

In  a  few  moments  there  were  about  five  hundred 
ducks  in  the  air,  and  a  hundred  mud-hens  skittering 
along  the  water,  making  as  much  fuss  as  if  they  also 
were  in  high  demand  at  Delmonico's. 

Away  went  the  ducks  to  the  upper  end  of  the  pond, 
curled  around  and  upward  like  the  thread  of  a  screw, 
then  turned  and  came  swooping  down  along  the  water 
with  their  stiffened  wings  hissing  with  the  speed ;  glancing 
up  from  the  surface  of  the  water  like  sunbeams,  at  the 
vain  crack  of  Laura's  gun;  whizzing  down  to  the  other 
end  of  the  pond,  and  bounding  high  in  widespread  con- 
fusion as. Norton  prematurely  raised  his  gun ;  then  gather- 
ing their  scattered  bands,  turning,  and  rushing  along  on 
high  back  to  the  other  end  again. 

Bang!  whang!  bang !  went  gun  after  gun,  as  the  swift- 
rushing  flocks  went  by.  But  not  a  splash  was  heard,  and 
ducks  were  fast  getting  high  instead  of  low.  The  mal- 
lards and  canvas-backs  soon  set  their  shining  sails  for 
other  waters  and  drifted  swiftly  away.  The  sprig-tails 
floated  far  away  in  the  sky.  The  widgeon  whistled  his 
way  to  more  congenial  quarters.  The,  spoonbill  picked 
up  his  exorbitant  bill  and  left,  without  waiting  for  a 
receipt.  And  the  little  cinnamon  teal,  tired  of  playing 
bobbin  in  that  kind  of  a  shuttle,  finally  faded  away  into 
the  distance. 

Tying  the  horses,  Belville  sent  Norton  to  another  pond, 
near  by,  to  scare  up  the  ducks,  leaving  the  ladies  at  the 
first  pond  to  scare  them  back  again  when  they  flew  there. 
He  then  lay  down  in  the  long  grass  of  a  little  swale  mid- 


118        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

way  between  the  two  ponds.  Flat  on  his  back,  with  his 
gun  beside  him,  he  kept  perfectly  motionless  as  a  flock 
of  mallards  started  from  the  lower  pond  and  came  toward 

- 

him.  On  they  came  like  charging  cavalry,  their  long 
necks  stretched  out  and  occasionally  bobbing  up  and 
down.  Now  he  hears  the  swift  beat  of  their  wings, 
and  they  are  close  upon  him.  Still  he  moves  not.  A 
second  more,  and  they  are  almost  over  him;  then  he 
quickly  sits  up,  and  at  his  shot  a  duck,  riddled  through 
and  through,  comes  plunging  like  a  wet  rag  to  earth. 
Swiftly,  with  pinions  moving  on  the  double-quick,  the 
rest  of  the  flock  climb  heavenward,  when  the  second  bar- 
rel cracks,  and  earthly  cares  outweigh  the  towering  aspi- 
rations of  another  member  of  the  band.  Some  canvas- 
backs,  red-heads,  and  sprig-tails,  that  were  coming 
swiftly  on  in  the  rear,  sheer,  tower,  wheel,  and  whizz  past 
out  of  shot ;  then  close  up  again  after  passing  him,  and 
go  gliding  downward  with  hissing  wings  to  the  first 
pond. 

No  sooner  had  they  reached  it  than  the  boom  of 
Laura's  gun  sent  them  scrambling  aloft  in  huddling  con- 
fusion. Down  they  went  to  the  other  end,  where 
the  sight  of  Evy's  hat,  which  was  a  little  too  conspicuous 
in  color,  sent  them  veering  spirally  upward;  then,  gath- 
ering their  hosts  into  a  serried  mass,  they  went  scudding 
back  to  the  pond  beyond  Belville. 

With  a  cautious  side-glance,  Belville  had  been  watch- 
ing a  lone  sprig-tail  coming  from  the  pond  where  Norton 
was,  and,  with  its  long  pennant  trailing  in  the  breeze* 
it  was  now  fast  winnowing  the  air  not  far  away.  As  he 
raised  his  gun,  a  yard  ahead  of  it,  a  canvas-back — one  of 


EASY  WORK  AT  DUCK-SHOOTING.  H9 

the  outriders  of  the  flock  coming  from  the  other  direc- 
tion— came  whizzing  like  a  white  meteor  right  across  the 
line  of  his  sights,  and — 

He  killed  them  both  at  one  shot  ? 

Nay,  reader.  That  would  have  been  a  mere  bungling 
bit  of  good  fortune.  That  might  have  been  something 
for  a  tyro  to  brag  over;  but  the  crack  shot  knows  that 
such  a  thing  is  more  accidental  than  anything  else.  Bel- 
ville  did  something  far  better.  You  may  brag  of  spring- 
ing two  quails  at  once  and  cutting  down  one  with  each 
barrel.  You  may  boast  of  clipping  the  twittering  wing  of 
one  autumn  woodcock  in  the  tangled  brush,  then  wheel- 
ing and  dropping  on  one  knee,  and  checking  the  upward- 
wheeling  career  of  another  that  started  at  the  same  time. 
And  you  may  still  chuckle  with  pride  as  you  recall  the 
time  when  in  the  darksome  brake  two  booming  brown 
rapid-sailers,  rising  almost  out  of  shot,  came  bouncing 
and  bounding  to  earth,  one  from  each  barrel,  you  scarcely 
knew  how,  so  quickly  was  it  done.  Your  pride  in  all 
these  things  is  pardonable,  for  they  require  almost  the 
acme  of  skill  with  the  gun,  a  skill  unattainable  by  many, 
rare  even  among  the  skillful. 

But  if  thou  hast  never  tried  to  stop  two  single  birds 
darting  past  each  other  at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles  an 
hour,  thou  knowest  little  of  double  shots. 

Amazing  is  the  rapidity  of  a  sportsman's  thought  at 
such  a  moment.  Only  two  or  three  times  in  his  long  field 
experience  had  Belville  seen  this  feat  accomplished,  and 
only  once  before  had  he  succeeded  in  doing  it  himself. 
Yet,  in  an  instant,  he  saw  his  opportunity,  and  saw  that  to 
try  to  kill  both  at  one  shot  would  be  nothing  if  accon> 


120      RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

plished,  and  would  only  be  to  throw  away  the  chance  of 
making  the  finest  of  double  shots.  Quick  as  the  thought 
itself  the  first  barrel  blazed  out  on  a  line  a  few  feet  ahead 
of  the  sprig-tail ;  almost  before  the  victim  of  this  shot  had 
folded  its  sails,  the  gun  was  turned  six  feet  ahead  of  the 
canvas-back,  which  was  already  a  hundred  feet  past  the 
other  and  darting  skyward  at  that.  At  the  report,  the 
canvas-back  came  whirling  down ;  the  two  ducks  striking 
ground  nearly  a  hundred  yards  apart. 

"I  guess  we'll  have  to  try  the  long  slough  again,  or 
you  will  get  no  shooting,"  said  Belville,  as  Norton  came 
up,  after  waiting  a  long  time  for  further  game.  "It  must 
be  well  stocked  by  this  time,  as  most  of  these  ducks  have 
gone  down  that  wa3r." 

The  party  were  soon  driving  back  to  the  slough,  where 
the  high  banks  afforded  them  good  rising  shots,  with 
nothing  to  do  but  to  ride  along  until  they  came  in  sight 
of  ducks  far  ahead,  when  they  could  get  out  and  walk  a 
few  hundred  feet  around  out  of  sight. 

Many  indeed  were  the  bustling  wings  that  sprang  hud- 
dling upward,  and  few  indeed  the  number  that  came  to 
grief;  yet,  when  they  reached  the  end  of  the  day,  they 
felt  prouder  of  the  few  ducks  that  lay  in  the  bottom  of 
the  wagon,  all  shot  on  the  wing,  than  if  they  had  killed  a 
wagon-load  with  sitting  shots. 

Evening  closed  in  as  they  rolled  down  the  dark  shade 
of  Fall  Brook  valley,  and  before  long  they  stopped  at 
Reche's  apiary. 


CHAPTER   X. 

BOUNDING     BEAUTY. 

**  1~\ON'T  you  think  we  could  get  a  deer  to-mor- 
J^J  row  ?"  asked  Belville  that  night  of  Reche. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder.  There  are  two  or  three  bucks 
in  the  hills  below  here,  and  they  must  be  in  good  condi- 
tion now,"  replied  his  host. 

Full  information  was  given,  before  they  retired  for  the 
night,  as  to  where  the  deer  might  be  found,  and  by  sun- 
rise next  morning  the  party  had  breakfasted  and  were  in 
the  saddle,  winding  through  a  grove  oT  live-oaks  that 
were  pioneers  of  this  land  before  Columbus  set  sail  to 
discover  it. 

"  Look  at  the  robins  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Norton,  as  a 
dozen  or  more  flew  past. 

"  There  are  a  few  here  in  the  spring,"  said  Belville. 
"  But  though  they  seem  to  be  exactly  the  same  in  plumage 
as  our  old  Eastern  songster  of  the  orchard  and  the 
garden,  yet  one  never  hears  the  beautiful  carol  that 
sounds  so  cheery  in  the  opening  spring,  back  East.  They 
are  quite  a  silent  bird,  here,  and  even  the  single  piping 
note  is  toned  down  to  a  husky  squeak." 

"  But  there  is  one  of  the  birds  of  California  that  is 
handsomer  and  more  gamey  than  his  Eastern  relative,"  he 
continued,  pointing  through  an  opening  among  the  live- 
oak  tops  to  a  gigantic  sycamore  not  far  away,  in  whose 


122       RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

upper  branches  thirty  or  forty  large  birds  were  sitting. 
"  Suppose  you  try  them,  Norton.  Just  over  yonder  you 
will  find  a  sandy  creek-bed  that  will  take  you  right  to 
the  tree.  But  be  sure  and  keep  out  of  their  sight." 

Norton  disappeared,  and  in  a  few  moments  there  was 
a  great  bustle  and  flapping  of  wings  in  the  sycamore, 
and  three  or  four  birds  sank  with  a  great  flutter  when  the 
report  of  the  gun  was  heard. 

Norton  soon  returned  with  beaming  countenance,  bring- 
ing in  his  hand  four  birds  a  little  larger  than  common 
house-pigeons.  Their  color  was  a  soft,  glossy  lavender, 
shading  along  the  neck,  wings,  and  breast  into  a  metallic 
luster  of  changeable  hue.  Around  the  neck  was  a  narrow 
white  collar,  and  the  deep  lustrous  eyes  wore  golden 
spectacles.  The  long  bluish  tail  was  broad  and  square 
at  the  end,  like  that  of  the  tame  pigeon,  and  the  full 
strong  breast,  mild  eye,  tender  bill,  and  pink  legs  and 
feet  all  showed  unmistakably  that  it  was  a  pigeon. 

u  The  mountain  pigeon,  or  ring-dove  of  California," 
said  Reche,  who  had  accompanied  them.  "  They  are 
driven  from  the  high  mountains  now  by  the  snow,  and 
come  into  these  lower  valleys  for  acorns.  Some  winters 
they  are  very  plenty  in  this  grove,  and  others  they  are 
not." 

"  I  should  think  the  birds  of  California  and  their 
differences  from  Eastern  birds  would  be  an  interesting 
study,"  said  Miss  Norton. 

"  So  it  would,"  said  Belville.  "  But  I  am  not  much  of 
a  naturalist.  Though  I  have  shot  thousands  of  quail,  I 
could  not  describe  one  correctly  without  looking  at  it. 
My  observation  of  birds  is  confined  mostly  to  such  of 


BOUNDING  BEAUTY.  123 

their  habits  as  bear  on  hunting  them.  Still  I  have  noticed 
many  differences.  There,  now,  is  a  thrush,  that  dark  brown 
chap  with  snuff-colored  vest,  long  curved  bill,  and  long 
tail,  that  is  whisking  about  under  yonder  bush.  He  has 
no  music  in  his  soul ;  a  stony  '  chuck'  once  in  a  while  is 
his  only  note.  He  spends  his  life  in  hopping  silently 
under  bushes,  rarely  mounting  to  a  tree-top  to  pour  out 
his  soul  like  the  Eastern  thrush.  And  yonder  is  a 
bird  that  looks  very  much  like  the  Eastern  blue- 
bird, though  I  doubt  his  relationship  very  much.  He 
wears  a  pretty  blue  coat,  but  the  soft  purling  note  you 
hear  from  your  bluebird  in  early  spring  is  wanting,  and 
there  is  nothing  in  its  place.  He  cares  nothing  for  your 
bird-houses  or  boxes,  and  is  an  unfriendly  chap,  generally. 
And  there  is  a  king-bird,  that  brown-backed,  straw- 
breasted  thing  going  *  ch-caa,  ch-caa,  ch-ca-cha-cha-cha-caa! 
Different,  you  see,  from  the  Eastern  bird,  both  in  color 
and  note,  yet  of  about  the  same  flight,  action,  and 
habits,  and  quite  as  fond  of  bees." 

"  What  quantities  of  quails  !"  exclaimed  Laura,  as  flock 
after  flock  rose  from  their  path.  "  How  delightful  it 
must  be  to  live  among  so  many  birds !" 

Reche  smiled  and  gazed  away,  on  the  distant  hills.  He 
had  been  raising  fruit  long  enough  to  have  his  admiration 
of  "  harmless  birds"  slightly  modified. 

"Isn't  that  a  deer?"  he  said  at  length,  pointing  to  a 
distant  ridge,  as  they  came  to  a  place  that  gave  a  view 
of  the  distant  hills. 

"Where,  where?"  exclaimed  Norton  and  the  ladies, 
who  saw  nothing  but  rolling  ridges  covered  with  grass, 
flowers,  white  sage,  ramiria,  sumac,  and  green  bushes. 


124      RIFLE,  ^ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"  Do  you  see  yonder  small,  shining,  dark  spot  by  the 
side  of  that  big  green  bush  about  six  or  seven  hundred 
yards  away  ?"  said  Belville,  pointing  to  the  bush. 

As  usually  happens  at  first,  the  ladies  and  Norton 
began  to  look  for  a  deer,  and  not,  as  they  were  instruct- 
ed, for  a  "small,  dark,  shiny  spot."  Consequently  they 
saw  nothing.  But  Belville's  knowledge  of  deer  was  not 
derived  from  pictures  ;  so  it  was  with  all  confidence  that 
he  drew  his  glass  and  turned  it  on  the  spot. 

"  That  is  just  what  it  is,"  he  said  in  a  moment.  "It's 
a  fine  buck,  too.  He  is  sunning  himself.  Let's  drop  out 
of  sight  and  hold  a  council  of  war." 

Through  the  glass  the  ladies  could  at  last  make  out 
the  outlines  of  a  deer,  but  were  much  disappointed  at 
its  seeming  so  small.  They  did  not  consider  it  at  all  sat- 
isfactory. 

"  You  will  think  him  sufficiently  big  if  we  can  get  close 
enough  to  him,"  said  Belville.  "  And  now,  which  way 
will  he  be  likely  to  run  if  started  by  some  one  going  up 
the  point  of  the  ridge?"  he  asked  of  Reche. 

"  He'll  either  cut  across  the  next  gulch  for  that  rocky 
hill  beyond,  or  will  run  along  the  back  of  the  ridge  and 
aim  for  the  live-oak  canon  of  Montserrate,"  Reche 
replied.  "  Or  he  may  slope  off  up  the  gulch  on  this 
side." 

"Then,"  said  Belville,  "  do  you  go  to  the  point  of  the 
ridge  and  try  him,  while  we  go  around  to  where  we  will 
stand  a  good  chance  of  being  run  over  in  case  he  slips 
through  your  fingers." 

"  Mercy  !"  exclaimed  Laura,  "  I  don't  want  to  be  run 
over!" 


BOUNDING  BEAUTY.  125 

"  It's  the  nicest  fun  in  the  world,"  said  Belville.  "  He'll 
jump  clear  over  without  touching  you,  and  all  there  is  to" 
do  is  to  hold  the  gun  perpendicular  and  pull  the  trigger 
the  instant  you  find  your  sunlight  shut  off." 

Belville  took  them  around  to  the  gulch  that  lay  on  their 
side  of  the  ridge. 

"You,  Norton,  had  better  stay  in  this  gulch,  as  you 
have  the  best  gun  for  buck-shot,"  said  Belville,  as  he 
tied  the  horses  in  a  little  hollow.  "  I'll  leave  the  ladies 
on  top  of  the  ridge,  and  go  myself  to  the  gulch  be- 
yond." 

He  then  took  the  ladies  about  a  hundred  yards  up  a 
gentle  slope  to  a  large  bright  sumac-bush  on  the  top  of 
the  ridge,  and,  telling  them  to  keep  behind  the  bush  and 
to  be  both  quiet  and  patient,  he  went  down  the  next 
slope  to  the  gulch  about  one  hundred  yards  farther  on. 

Ten  minutes  passed  away,  and  then,  sharp  and  clear 
along  the  hills,  rang  the  report  of  a  rifle  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  deer,  causing  a  flutter  in  the  nerves  of  the 
ladies  and  a  lively  activity  in  Norton's  pulse. 

In  a  few  seconds  a  faint  bump,  bump  was  heard  in  the 
direction  of  the  shot ;  which  soon  became  plainer,  more 
distinct,  and  unmistakably  closer.  Bump,  bump,  bump, 
it  came,  like  a  wooden  maul  striking  hard  ground,  at 
short  intervals.  Then  the  ladies  saw  over  the  bushes, 
some  distance  down  the  ridge  before  them,  a  dark 
object  rising  and  falling,  keeping  time  to  the  bumping 
noise,  which  was  steadily  growing  louder.  Soon  they 
could  clearly  see  an  animal  with  glistening  gray  coat 
and  thick  dark  neck,  black  forehead,  long  mulish  gray 
ears,  gray  nose,  black  muzzle,  shining  dark  eyes,  and 


126       RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

two  thick,  stubbed,  velvet-covered  horns,  nearly  black, 
with  four  trim  slender  legs,  all  grouped  close  together 
under  the  body,  as  it  curved  upwards — and  Cervus 
macrotis,  the  deer  of  Southern  California,  was  in  plain 
sight  and  within  easy  shot !  ^ 

This  deer  is  commonly  called  the  "  black-tail  "  from 
the  fact  that  its  tail  is  nearly  black  on  the  upper  side. 
But,  according  to  Judge  Caton,  of  the  Illinois  Supreme 
bench,  probably  the  best  authority  on  deer  in  America, 
it  is  a  variety  of  the  mule-deer  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
basin ;  while  the  black-tail  is  not  found  in  Southern  Cali- 
fornia at  all.  This  is  a  smaller  deer  than  the  common 
mule-deer — though  some  of  the  males  attain  great  size — 
and  is  shorter-bodied  and  shorter-legged  than  either  that 
or  the  Virginia  or  common  deer  of  the  East. 

But  what  this  deer  lacks  in  size  he  makes  up  in  activity ; 
and  the  peculiar  gait  of  the  mule-deer,  most  highly  de- 
veloped in  this  variety,  the  spectators  could  now  plainly 
see.  There  was  no  gentle  canter,  no  rapid  run,  no  hug- 
ging the  earth  like  a  greyhound,  nor  anything  indicative  of 
effort  to  absorb  space.  Nevertheless  the  noble  fellow 
bounded — not  ran,  as  though  the  ground  were  India  rub- 
ber and  his  legs  steel  springs,  his  four  feet  grouped  close 
together,  all  striking  the  hard  ground  at  one  blow  and 
glancing  from  the  touch  like  the  ricochet  of  a  cannon- 
ball.  And  yet  there  seemed  to  be  no  more  effort,  no 
more  energy  expended,  than  in  the  motion  o"f  a  birch 
canoe  over  a  stormy  lake. 

But  oh,  how  deceitful  that  billowy  flight  to  him  who 
views  it  through  the  sights  of  a  rifle  !  Talk  not  of  your 
snap-shooting  or  your  double  shots  with  the  shot-gun ! 


BOUNDING  BEAUTY.  127 

Away  with  the  mechanical  smashing  of  glass  balls  practi- 
cally at  rest  as  they  pause  on  the  turn  in  the  air,  and  at 
a  distance  so  short  that  a  mere  boy  could  hit  them  with 
a  putty-blower  if  they  were  actually  at  rest !  Boast  not 
of  shooting  pigeons  tossed  from  a  trap  to  nearly  always 
the  same  point  of  space,  or  of  your  shooting  with  a  rifle 
"at  a  fixed  mark  at  known  distances  and  under  almost 
unchanging  conditions ;  or  of  your  skill  with  the  rifle 
on  the  common  Virginia  deer  when  running.  Until  you 
have  tried  this  surging  beauty  you  know  little  of  rifle- 
shooting.  The  big  mule-deer  jumps  high  enough.  So 
does  the  Virginia  deer  when  there  is  anything  to  cross, 
and  he  rises  quite  high  even  in  his  gentle  canter.  But 
the  rise  of  either  is  nothing  to  the  upward  glance  of  this 
compact  magazine  of  condensed  energy  when  the  four 
feet  all  strike  the  ground  at  one  blow  with  full  force.  The 
height  of  this  rise  is  not  fully  appreciated,  even  by  those 
most  familiar  with  it.  Much  as  we  had  admired  it,  won- 
dered at  it,  and  been  deceived  by  it,  we  never  fully  realized 
what  it  was  until  we  saw  a  half-grown  fawn  playing  before 
some  dogs.  A  fence,  shoulder  high,  was  in  its  course, 
and  it  skipped  over  it  three  or  four  times  with  scarcely  a 
perceptibly  higher  rise  and  no  more  perceptible  effort  than 
when  bounding  along  the  level  ground ;  although  we  stood 
not  fifty  yards  away,  watching  it  with  special  reference 
to  these  points. 

Though  by  no  means  its  only  style  of  showing  its  heels, 
this  is  the  gait  it  generally  takes  when  started ;  and  up 
hill,  down  hill,  through  brush,  over  brush,  among  huge 
boulders,  rocks,  shingle,  or  anything  else,  it  holds  this 
tiresome  gait  with  such  astonishing  speed  and  endurance 


128      RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

that  it  is  always  worth  half  a  day's  work  just  to  see  one 
run. 

Vainly  you  hold  the  sights  of  the  rifle  on  its  body, 
unless  extremely  close.  Aim  at  it  when  in  the  air,  and 
your  bullet  whizzes  through  the  space  it  has  just  left,  three 
feet  or  more  above.  Aim  at  it  when  it  touches  ground, 
and  your  bullet  has  a  clear  field  away  below  the  gathered 
legs,  for  it  stays  on  the  ground  no  longer  than  a  sunbeam 
on  a  wave.  The  forward  motion  is  alone  sufficient,  if 
the  deer  is  at  any  considerable  distance,  to  leave  the  ball 
singing  across  his  wake,  unless  aimed  well  ahead.  And 
this,  combined  with  the  rise  and  fall,  would  make  this 
deer  the  hardest  of  all  big  game  to  hit  with  a  single  ball, 
even  on  open  level  ground.  One  can  easily  imagine,  then, 
what  it  must  be  on  the  rough  brushy  ground  upon  which 
this  game  is  generally  found,  when  at  one  jump  it  clears 
fifteen  feet,  at  the  next  ten,  at  the  next  perhaps  eighteen, 
and  at  the  next  twelve ;  now  describing  a  high  narrow 
arch  in  air,  now  a  long  sweeping  curve  more  deceptively 
high.  Cry  not  Eureka!  if  you  happen  to  catch  the  first 
one  or  two  at  the  first  or  second  shot.  Wait  until  you 
have  shot  at  a  few  hundred,  and  then  we  shall  be  happy 
to  hear  from  you — provided  you  have  kept  the  reckon- 
ing of  expended  bullets  by  something  besides  the  deer 
you  bring  home. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  despite  the  rapid  staccato  fire 
and  the  hissing  lead  from  Belville's  Winchester  rifle  in 
the  next  gulch,  the  buck  comes  dancing  gayly  onward, 
as  unconcerned  as  a  careless  man  about  a  note  his  indors- 
ing friend  has  been  compelled  to  pay.  On  he  comes, 
with  louder  and  closer  bump,  bump,  butnp,  smash  of  brush 


BOUNDING  BEAUTY.  129 

and  scattering  of  flowers,  annihilating  at  every  bound 
five  or  six  yards  of  the  distance  between  him  and  the 
ladies.  What  wonder  that  their  hands  shake  and  their 
hearts  throb  faster  and  faster,  that  Laura  forgets  to 
shoot,  and  a  charge  of  buckshot  from  Eveline's  gun  goes 
far  above  the  glossy  gray  pelt,  as  the  deer  descends  from 
a  lofty  spring. 

You  thought  this  deer  didn't  know  how  to  run,  did 
you  ?  Behold  him,  then,  as  he  wheels  like  a  flash  from 
the  smoke  of  the  gun.  No  longer  the  glossy  fur  shines 
undulating  above  the  brush,  but  the  gait  is  changed  in  a 
twinkling  into  a  low  scudding  movement  as,  his  head 
laid  well  back,  with  the  pace  of  a  racer  the  deer  cleaves 
the  low  brush  like  a  shot. 

Straight  toward  Norton  he  shoots,  bridges  at  a  bound 
the  deep  broad  gully  at  the  bottom  of  the  gulch,  flirts 
off  at  a  tangent  as  he  sees  Norton,  dashes  headlong  into  a 
deep  branch  gully  as  the  latter's  gun  bellows  vainly  above, 
clatters  up  the  narrow  rocky  bottom  as  if  it  were  a  race- 
track, skips  out  at  the  other  end  and  resumes  his  ricochet 
gait  with  one  of  Reche's  celebrated  five-hundred-yard 
shots  tearing  up  the  dirt  about  fifty  feet  below  and  be- 
hind, and  the  buckshot  from  Norton's  second  barrel  pat- 
tering harmlessly  around  him,  stops  on  top  of  the  ridge, 
gives  a  complacent  wiggle  of  his  stubby  little  paint-brush 
of  a  tail,  and  then  strikes  into  a  trot  and  disappears  down 
the  next  slope,  with  jacket  inviolate. 

And  this  you  call  sport  ?  I  imagine  some  one  asking. 
Perhaps  not.  To  some,  sport  is  only  the  securing  of 
game.  For  such  the  "wild  Western"  tale  lies  ready  and 
the  reeking  page  of  the  African  or  Indian  book,  and 


130          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

in  proper  time  the  market,  unfortunately,  will  again  be 
open. 

But  there  are  others  to  whom  sport  is  sometimes  the 
getting  away  instead  of  the  getting  of  game,  or  gratifica- 
tion of  the  almighty  palate  or  of  the  stupid  pride  of  the 
hunter  for  "count."  Of  such  were  the  party  of  Nimrods 
whose  doings  are  here  chronicled;  and  they  returned 
home,  well  satisfied  with  their  day's  work,  even  though 
no  trophy  crowned  their  efforts. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THTS    MOUNTAIN    TROUT. 

THE  blaze  of  orange,  blue,  carmine,  and  pink  is 
nearly  burned  out  along  the  southern  slopes ;  the 
golden  glow  of  the  actinolepis  drowns  out  the  last  rem- 
nant of  the  violets  and  shooting  stars  along  the  plains ; 
the  pin-like  seeds  of  the  alfileria  are  beginning  to  pale 
and  curl  in  spots;  an  ashen  tint  begins  to  creep  along 
the  brow  of  the  wild-oat  hills;  the  haze  poured  through 
the  valleys  by  the  sinking  sun  takes  a  tinge  of  deeper 
crimson  ;  the  granite  castles  of  the  hills  shine  at  evening 
with  a  darker  purple ;  the  brooding  call  of  the  quail 
rings  from  hillside  and  valley;  the  mocking-bird's  flood- 
tide  of  song  begins  to  ebb ;  the  bright  steel-blue  body 
and  orange  wings  of  the  great  wasps  gleam  here  and 
there  in  the  warmer  sun,  and  the  great  miller  booms  at 
evening  like  a  humming-bird  around  the  honeysuckle. 
Yes,  summer  is  approaching. 

Like  a  great  whale  among  his  billows,  Smith's  Moun- 
tain rolls  above  the  wavy  land,  and  in  the  jaws  of  one  of 
the  great  canons  that  cleave  its  sides  our  friends  have 
camped.  A  mile  high,  the  mountain  towers  above  them, 
its  base  a  mass  of  boulder  and  shingle,  its  breast  a  carpet 
of  waving  wild  oats,  its  shoulders  orchards  of  green  oaks 
with  alfileria  and  silvery  foxtail  glowing  beneath  them, 
its  head  a  forest  of  dark  pine  and  fir.  Through  a  vast 


132         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

rift,  descending  nearly  four  thousand  feet  in  three  miles, 
now  tearing  madly  down  short  rapids,  now  sleeping  in  a 
basin  guarded  by  huge  boulders,  now  swirling  gently 
between  steep-curving  banks,  and  again  plunging  down 
in  a  foaming  cascade,  comes  from  near  the  mountain's 
crest  a  clear  crystal  stream  of  ice-cold  water,  one  of  the 
very  few  living  streams  in  all  this  county,  and  the  only 
one  containing  trout  large  enough  to  be  worth  catching. 
Along  the  dank  side  of  the  giant  walls  of  the  rift  hang  in 
long  green  fringes  the  bright  maiden-hair ;  gold,  silver, 
lace,  and  other  ferns  spring  on  all  sides  in  luxuriant  waste 
beneath  the  boulders ;  the  stately  alders,  great  trees 
here,  shoot  up  their  glistening  brown  trunks  and  shining 
foliage  in  all  directions ;  the  old  sycamores  are  festooned 
with  grape-vines,  and  some  of  the  live-oaks  are  hoary  with 
mossy  beards.  Far  above,  the  ring-doves  are  drifting 
across  the  great  chasm ;  the  linnet's  warble  rises  above 
even  the  roar  of  waters ;  the  quail's  clear  pipe  rings 
along  the  mountain  side,  and  the  bluejay,  the  high- 
holder,  and  other  woodpeckers  flash  here  and  there 
through  the  green  shades. 

Belville,  in  planning  the  day's  fishing,  had  intended  to 
go  up-stream  with  Laura  while  he  sent  the  other  two 
down-stream.  But  while  he  was  cutting  a  pole  for  Eve- 
line, Laura  went  with  Norton,  who  called  her  to  go  with 
him  when  he  went  to  cut  a  pole  for  her.  So  it  happened 
that  Belville  and  Eveline  went  together. 

"  Do  you  see  those  heavy  boulders  around  yonder 
pool?"  said  Belville,  after  he  had  fixed  the  line  for  his 
companion.  "You  had  better  slip  quietly  behind  that 
largest  one  and  drop  your  line  gently  over  it  into  the 


THE  MOUNTAIN   TROUT.  133 

water,  and  keep  yourself  put  of  sight.  These  trout  are 
not  difficult  to  catch.  One  needs  only  to  keep  out  of 
sight,  put  the  bait  on  properly,  and  get  them  hooked.  To 
get  them  fastened  on  the  hook  is  the  only  thing  about  it 
requiring  any  skill.  You  can  lift  them  directly  out  with- 
out any  playing,  for  they  are  not  large  enough  or  gamey 
enough  to  require  that." 

She  followed  his  directions,  and  he  went  with  her  be- 
hind the  boulder.  Scarcely  had  her  line  touched  the 
water  when  there  was  a  jerk  on  it.  In  a  second  more  a 
four-ounce  trout  was  struggling  in  the  air  with  desperate 
vigor. 

"Swing  him  in  quick  !"  said  Belville. 

As  she  did  so,  the  fish  wriggled  off  the  hook  and 
landed  on  the  sloping  bank  between  two  boulders.  She 
made  a  spring  and  attempted  to  grab  her  prey ;  but  the 
fish  bounced  so  high  at  every  flop,  and  flopped  so  fast, 
that  it  was  rapidly  nearing  the  water's  edge,  when  she 
suddenly  threw  herself  flat  upon  it. 

"I  declare!"  exclaimed  Belville  with  admiration,  <:you 
are  more  game  than  the  fish.  Most  ladies  would  have 
stood  still  and  warbled  their  heart-rending  lamentations 
and  let  him  proceed  on  his  flopping  career.  It's  a  pretty 
good  fish,  too,  for  this  brook.  There  are  not  many  large 
ones  here,  few  being  over  eight  inches  long.  They  are 
different  from  the  Eastern  trout,  and  not  near  so  gamey." 
He  held  up  the  fish,  while  she  inspected  carefully  and 
with  pride  its  dark-green  back  and  its  sides  like  tarnished 
silver  spotted  with  black. 

"Not  so  handsome,  either,"  he  continued,  "as  the 
crimson-speckled  beauty  of  the  Eastern  brooks,  being 


134         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

rather  more  like  chubs  both  in  action  and  taste;  but 
they  are  trout,  nevertheless,  and  though  they  are  de- 
ficient in  avoirdupois,  which  to  some  minds  is  the  chief 
criterion  in  judging  of  fish,  this  is  trout-fishing  all  the 
same." 

"  Oh,  I  think,"  said  Evy,  "just  to  sit  beside  this  boiling 
whirl  of  waters  amid  such  dark  and  solemn  shades,  after 
a  few  weeks  on  the  dry  plains  and  along  the  open  hills  of 
this  country,  would  be  in  itself  a  pleasure,  even  without 
any  fish." 

"  You  will  be  still  more  of  that  opinion  when  we  go  to 
the  trout-streams  of  San  Bernardino  County.  But  there 
are  more  in  here.  Try  it  again." 

Again  she  cautiously  dropped  the  hook.  Soon  there 
was  a  gentle  tremor  at  the  line,  a  cautious  nibble  such 
as  ye  country  verdant,  pluming  himself  on  his  acuteness, 
first  takes  when  he  reaches  Wall  Street  with  the  proceeds 
of  the  ancestral  farm.  Then  came  a  bolder  bite,  such  as 
ye  aforesaid  taketh  when  he  turns  a  few  pennies  on  the 
first  venture  and  credits  it  to  his  own  superior  sagacity. 
She  gave  a  pull  on  the  line,  and  the  fish  came  whirling  up 
through  the  water  and  the  air,  dropped  struggling  on  th< 
boulder,  bounced  high  from  it  again  with  a  vigorous  flop 
and  fell  back  into  the  dark  water. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  didn't  hook  him  right.     You  mus 
give  a  quick,  short  jerk,  so  as  to  fasten  him  before  you 
pull  him  out,"  said  Belville. 

"I  thought  catching  fish  was  like  catching  men,"  saic 
Evy,  demurely.  "  They  shouldn't  be  hooked  too  quickly 
but  played  a  little  first." 

"But  some  men  are  so  eager  that  they  don't  neec 


THE  MOUNTAIN   TROUT.  135 

playing  at  all,  either  before  or  after  being  hooked;  and 
these  fish  are  just  like  them — anxious  and  verdant." 

"Just  the  kind  I  like,  then,  for  I  never  can  catch  any 
others." 

"Which— fish  or  men?" 

"  Fish,  of  course,"  said  she,  with  a  laugh,  as  she 
dropped  her  line  again,  while  Belville  pulled  out  a 
wriggling  little  trout  which  he  tossed  back  into  the 
water.  She  shortly  followed  suit  and  drew  out  one  of 
nearly  the  same  size.  "The  same  fish,  I  declare!"  she 
exclaimed.  "  If  he's  so  determined  to  be  caught  let's 
accommodate  him.  He  is  not  so  very,  very  small,"  she 
said,  looking  at  it  critically  with  the  fisherman's  eye, 
which  she  was  already  fast  developing. 

"  It  is  not  the  same  one,  although  he's  pretty  small ; 
but  you  should  never  fish  for  count,"  said  Belville,  sen- 
tentiously. 

"Go  back  then,  and  send  thy  big  brother,"  said  she, 
gayly,  as  she  tossed  it  back  and  put  in  her  line  once 
more.  Hardly  had  her  bait  struck  the  surface,  when 
the  line  swished  through  the  water,  and  out  came  a 
struggling,  flopping  beauty,  almost  ten  inche's  long. 

"  Ha !  ha  !  He  sent  his  father  instead  of  his  brother," 
said  Belville,  helping  it  off  the  hook.  "A  nice  one, 
too  ! — about  a  five-pounder." 

"Five  pounds!  Oh,  I'm  so  glad;  for  I  have  seen  in 
some  book  that  that  was  about  the  largest  size  they 
grow  to." 

"  Yes,  fully  five  pounds — fisherman's  weight,  of  course. 
Avoirdupois,  we  might  have  to  discount  that  possibly," 
said  Belville,  "  Now  here  comes  the  brother  on  my  hook," 


J3G         RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

he  added,  pulling  out  another  fair-sized  fellow.  "I 
wonder  if  his  grand-daddy  is  still  living?  We  must 
bag  the  family.  It  would  be  cruel  to  separate  them." 

"Yes,  he's  living,  and  at  home,  too,"  said  Evy,  as 
another  five-pounder  (fisherman's  weight)  came  wrig- 
gling out.  He  fell  on  the  boulder,  flopped  up  between 
her  hands  into  her  face  as  she  clutched  at  him,  and  landed 
in  a  small  pool  at  one  side  which  had  an  outlet  into  the 
larger  one.  In  a  moment  she  had  one  arm  in  the  water 
to  the  elbow,  trying  hard  to  hold  the  slippery  struggler. 

" t  Do  what  you  don't  dare  to  do,'  says  Emerson  !" 

"  I  never  would  have  got  him  otherwise,"  she  said,  as 
she  finally  pulled  out  the  fish  and  laid  him  high  and  dry. 

"  What  Emerson  said  was  sound  philosophy  that  time, 
anyhow,"  said  Belville. 

Suddenly  there  arose  a  hubbub  down  the  stream,  such 
as  jars  the  foundations  of  some  mansion  what  time  the 
first-born  cuts  its  first  tooth. 

"Oh  Charley,  run  quick!  Oh!  oh!  oh!  Look! 
look!  Oh!  I  wish  the  Doctor  was  here  to  see  it.  Call 
him,  Charley.  Take  him  off!  Oh!  stop  him!  Ain't 
he  a  beauty  ?" 

Belville  hurried  down,  and  found  Laura  holding  a 
pole  with  a  fish  dancing  in  air,  while  Norton  with  the 
tips  of  his  fingers  was  gingerly  trying  to  unfasten  it. 

"You  must  learn  to  take  off  your  own  fish,"  said  Bel- 
ville, laughing,  "or  you  will  never  become  a  fisherman." 

"  But  it  might  bite,"  said  Laura. 

"Yes,  that's  so ;  they'll  bite  nearly  as  badly  as  a  lamb." 

"Is  that  a  trout,  Doctor?"  she  asked. 

"Yes;  a  handsome  ten-pounder," 


THE  MOUNTAIN  TROUT.  137 

"And  is  that  very  big?" 

"  Middling  fair  for  this  brook.  They  don't  run  over 
nine  and  a  half  here  as  a  general  thing." 

"  Doctor,  does  it  really  weigh  ten  pounds?"  she  asked, 
searching  Belville's  eyes  with  a  half-doubting  look,  as 
she  saw  Norton  smile. 

"  Well,  I  couldn't  conscientiously  recommend  you  to 
weigh  it.  The  pocket  scales  lately  invented  are  the 
greatest  curse  ever  inflicted  on  fishermen.  The  inven- 
tion strikes  a  deadly  blow  at  the  very  root  of  the  angler's 
happiness." 

"And  how  much  do  you  suppose  it  actually  weighs?" 
she  asked,  with  a  pleading  look  in  her  deep  dark  eyes. 

"  If  we  had  scales  sufficiently  delicate  he  might  run 
as  high  as  an  ounce  and  eleven  nineteenths,  if  he  was 
first  well  fed  with  shot  and  weighed  before  he  stopped 
kicking.  But  you  know  a  trout  never  looks  so  big  as 
when  you  first  see  him  on  the  end  of  your  line.  You 
see,  this  fellow  has  grown  small  already,"  said  he,  toss- 
ing it  back  into  the  water.  "  We'll  send  him  home,  as 
his  mother  may  be  getting  anxious.  I  see  you  haven't 
had  very  good  luck.  Come  with  me  and  I'll  show  you 
how  to  do  it." 

So  Laura  and  the  Doctor  went  up-stream  to  some 
untried  pools  above,  while  Norton  stopped  with  his 
sister,  who  had  followed  Belville  to  the  scene  of  excite- 
ment. 

"  Evy,"  said  Norton,  "  don't  you  think  he  rather  in- 
clines to  take  Laura  with  him  a  trifle  too  much  ?" 

"Well,  he  seems  fond  of  her  company.  But  what  of  it  ? 
You  can't  blame  him  for  that.  Following  the  rule  of 


138        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

human  nature,  I  of  course  ought  to  mind  his  being 
more  attentive  to  her  than  to  me.  But  I  don't.  I  con- 
sider him  only  a  kind  of  an  agreeable  flirt,  and  he  likes 
her  company  best  because  she  is  more  lively  and  prettier 
than  I  am." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  could  throw  yourself  a  little  more 
in  their  way.  I  don't  like  to  have  him  monopolize  her 
so  much." 

"  Why,  you  surely  are  not  afraid  of  him  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least ;  yet,  to  tell  the  truth,  some  how  I 
don't  like  it.  She  seems  to  enjoy  his  company  more 
than  I  care  to  have  her.  If  he  were  not  so  indispensa- 
ble to  our  trip  I  would  gently  drop  him.  But  he  knows 
all  the  country,  and  all  about  hunting,  fishing,  and  camp- 
ing; so  that  we  can't  get  along  without  him  at  present. 
And  he's  such  good  company  that,  in  fact,  I  don't  want 
to  lose  him." 

"  I  don't  think  anybody  could  shake  Laura's  attach- 
ment to  you,  Charley.  And  there's  less  danger  from 
him  than  from  any  -one  I  know.  He's  only  a  light- 
hearted  fellow  that  cares  for  nothing  but  a  little  fun." 

.  "  What  do  you  say  to  climbing  the  big  Grayback  of 
the  San  Bernardino  range  when  we  go  up  there  fishing?" 
said  Belville  to  Laura,  after  they  were  out  of  hearing  of 
the  others  and  had  cast  their  lines.  "  It's  the  highest 
mountain  of  Southern  California,  and  one  of  the  highest 
— perhaps  the  very  highest — in  the  United  States,  above 
the  country  around  its  base." 

"  Oh !  I  should  love  dearly  to  climb  a  mountain — if  I 
only  could,"  she  added  with  a  doubting  accent. 


THE  MOUNTAIN   TROUT.  139 

"  It  is  very  easy.  We  can  go  almost  the  entire  distance 
on  horseback,  and  I  believe  a  good  mountain  horse  could 
make  the  top.  It's  really  a  noble  mountain  and  well 
repays  the  toil." 

"Let  us  try  it  then,  by  all  means.  I  never  have 
climbed  anything  higher  than  Mt.  Holyoke,  which  is 
only  a  mole-hill  by  the  side  of  this  mountain." 

"  And  Grayback  is  about  as  high  again  as  this.  But 
here's  a  bite  on  my  line.  Now  will  you  please  take  hold 
of  the  pole,  and  when  you  feel  a  bite  again  give  a  quick 
but  short  and  gentle  jerk,  a  little  sideways,  so  as  to  hook 
him.  Then  you  can  pull  him  out  at  your  leisure." 

There  was  another  nibble  soon,  and  in  a  second  the 
hook  was  anchored  in  an  alder  branch  about  eight  feet 
above  the  water,  while  the  fish,  describing  a  shining  arc, 
fell  back  into  the  water. 

Belville  loosened  the  tangled  line,  and  handed  it  back 
to  her,  with  a  caution  about  jerking  too  hard. 

"  Isn't  it  delightful  to  smell  the  water  after  being  out 
on  the  dry  plains  and  hills?"  she  said. 

"  Yes  indeed ;  I  could  lie  down  on  one  of  these  boulders 
and  dream  the  long  summer  away  in  perfect — " 

There  was  another  bite,  another  jerk,  another  shining 
arc,  and  a  splashing  back  into  the  water ;  and  as  Belville 
made  a  grab  at  his  arm  when  the  hook  stung  through  his 
coat  like  a  hornet,  his  foot  slipped  on  the  wet  boulder  he 
was  on,  and  the  dark  boiling  water  closed  over  him. 
The  water  was  not  deep,  and  he  soon  raised  his  head 
and  quieted  the  apprehensions  of  his  companion. 

"You've  hooked  him  at  last !"  said  he  as  he  caught  his 
breath.  "  Now  pull  him  out  at  your  leisure." 


160      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"I  guess  I'll  go  back  and  stay  with  Charley,"  said 
Laura,  "and  leave  you  and  the  Doctor  to  catch  fish 
enough  for  breakfast." 

"What  a  false  position  I  stand  in!"  she  soliloquized, 
when  alone.  "  May  heaven  help  me !  I  do  not  mean  to 
do  wrong,  yet  how  can  I  help  loving  both ;  loving  one 
more  than  the  other,  yet  loving  the  other  too  much  to 
tell  him  what  I  should.  Heaven  forgive  me  if  I  am 
wrong.  I  do  not  mean  to  be." 

:  "*i. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  have  come,  Laura,"  said  Norton, 
with  a  smile,  when  she  had  reached  the  camp. 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  lonely  when  Evy  left,  so  I 
came  right  away." 

"  Yes,  Laura,  I  was  very  lonely,  as  I  always  am  with- 
out you.  And  I  have  something  I  am  very  anxious  to 
tell  you.  Laura,  I  am  dying!"  He  spoke  in  a  deep, 
solemn  tone,  and  fixed  his  dark,  sunken  eyes,  burning 
with  weird  brilliancy,  full  upon  hers. 

"  Why,  Charley !     How  can  you  talk  so  ?" 

"Yes,  Laura,  dying.  Dying  by  the  day,"  he  said  with 
the  same  tone  and  look. 

"Why  Charley,  you  are  looking  better  every  day." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  with  a  tinge  of  bitterness,  "  the  sun 
and  wind  improve  the  color.  But  such  skin-deep  re- 
covery does  not  deceive  me  in  the  least.  The  oil  is 
burnt  out  and  it  is  only  the  fast-charring  wick  you  see, 
an(J  soon  its  light  will  cease.  Laura,  there  is  just  one 
thing  left  for  me  now ;  just  one  thing.  It  lies  in  your 
power,  and  in  yours  alone,  to  brighten  the  few  days  that 
yet  remain  for  me." 


THE  GREAT  AMERICAN  TROUT  SWINE.  161 
.  ^x 

"Charley,  you  have  the  'hypo.'  You  are  surely 
stronger  than  when  you  came  here.  Let's  go  fish  a  little, 
and  that  will  cheer  you  up.  To-morrow  we  start  for  the 
Cucamunga  Mountains,  and  they  say  the  scenery  there 
is  even  finer  than  this.  There  is  more  variety  there," 
said  she ;  adding  in  a  light  gay  voice,  "  and  a  little  vari- 
ety will  send  your  spirits  up,  up,  up!" 

It  produced  no  effect,  however,  and  he  continued  in 
the  same  tone  and  with  the  same  look  : 

"  There  is  one  thing,  Laura,  for  which  I  have  tried — 
oh !  so  hard — to  live.  Otherwise,  I  should  willingly 
have  staid  at  home  and  allowed  death  to  work  his  will 
with  me.  But  for  your  sake  I  have  come  here  and 
tried  to  live.  That  hope  has  been  vain,  Laura,  and 
already  I  feel  rising  fast  around  me  the  dark  tide  that 
will  soon  overwhelm  me.  Laura,  must  I  die  without 
seeing  the  dream  of  my  life  fulfilled  ?" 

"  I  hope  not,  Charley.  I  hope  you  will  recover,"  she 
faltered. 

"  Laura,  lay  that  out  of  the  question.  / — know.  But 
whether  I  recover  or  not,  why  should  we  wait  any 
longer?  Why  not  unite  now  our  hands  as  well  as  our 
hearts?  And  if  I  die—" 

"Charley!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  half  scream,  "how 
can  you  talk  so  ?  Don't !  don't !" 

"Well;  if  I  live,  then?"  said  he,  earnestly. 

"I  hope  you  will.  I  know  you  will,"  said  she,  brushing 
a  tear  from  her  bright  eye. 

"  Then  it  will  only  anticipate  what's  to  happen  anyhow 
before  a  great  while." 

A  low  "yes"  slipped  out  before  she  knew  it.     She 


142          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"And  the  cliffs  don't  'beetle*  nor  the  crags  'topple 
worth  a  cent,"  he  replied.     "And  the   eagle   isn't   on 
hand,  either,  to  spread  his  great  vans  on  the  breeze.    I'm 
really  afraid  it  isn't  a  mountain  at  all." 

"  Oh !  yes  it  is,  too.  It's  all  right ;  all  right,  for  surely 
the  sun  ' glints'  on  yonder  peak,"  said  Laura. 

"jOh!  I'm  so  glad.  And,  now  I  think  of  it,  didn't  we 
hear  a  brook  'brawl'  a  while  ago  ?" 

"I  thought  I  heard  a  rill  '  tinkle.'" 

"Yes,  I  heard  a  stream  'purl,'  too.  But  that  is  not 
enough.  'Brawling'  is  absolutely  indispensable  to  a 
mountain  stream,"  said  he. 

"  But  those  meadows  we  passed  were  certainly  'lush.' " 

"  At  any  rate  we  can  soon  tell,  for  we  must  be  almost 
in  sight  of  the  '  horrid  crest' >: 

The  top  was  soon  reached,  and,  tying  their  horses  to  a 
rock,  they  sat  down.  Nearly  all  the  great  mountains  of 
our  country,  and  even  of  the  world,  rise  from  a  region 
already  elevated  thousands  of  feet;  so  that  the  actual 
rise  of  the  mountain  is  not  great.  Few  indeed  are  the 
mountains  that  look  down  from  an  altitude  of  two 
miles;  and  Grayback,  looking  down  from  a  height  of 
eleven  thousand  five  hundred  feet  upon  a  country  less 
than  a  thousand  feet  above  sea-level,  is  in  fact  a  grander 
mountain  than  Pike's  Peak  and  many  others  much 
higher. 

And  now  with  a  glass  they  looked  down  upon  a  circle 
of  two  hundred  miles  in  diameter — a  wild  and  wasteful 
mass  of  beautiful  confusion  and  imposing  desolation, 
broken  here  and  there  at  long  intervals  by  a  spot  of 
green — the  silvery  thread  of  some  stream  or  aqueduct, 


THE   SILVER    TROUT  AT  HOME.  143 

or  the  sheen  of  some  rare  laguna  glittering  like  a  dia- 
mond in  the  bosom  of  the  plain.  Where  rests  the  eye 
upon  a  grander  sight  than  great  San  Jacinto,  heaving 
his  giant  bulk  ten  thousand  feet  in  air  at  a  single  sweep  ? 
Yet  there  he  stands  just  across  the  pass  of  San  Gorgonio, 
eight  thousand  feet  deep,  curling  up  from  the  desert  on 
the  east,  like  a  vast  wind-swept  wave,  and  tumbling  in 
long  lines  of  pine  forests,  blue  foot-hills,  and  green  valleys, 
away  to  the  plains  of  San  Jacinto  and  Temecula  in  the  west. 
Dark  rifts  filled  with  boulders,  pine,  and  snow-banks  seam 
the  great  heaving  sides ;  canons  and  gulches  untrod  by 
man,  the  home  of  the  grizzly  bear  and  the  panther,  wind 
their  great  green  arms  upward  toward  the  fir-plumed  head 
of  the  mountain  looming  high  in  the  southern  sky. 

Beyond  stand  the  Cohuilla,  Coyote,  and  Cuyamaca 
mountains,  high  watch-towers  on  the  great  chain  of  rug- 
ged guards  that,  fading  far  into  Mexico,  shut  off  the  in- 
habitable part  of  San  Diego  from  the  fiery  breath  of  the 
great  furnace  that  yonder  on  the  eastern  side,  a  vast 
shimmering  sea  of  sand,  stretches  far  away  to  where 
Yuma  lies  broiling  on  its  southern  verge.  To  the  south- 
west, the  eye  ranges  over  a  billowy  swell  of  hill  'and  dale, 
table-lands  and  plains,  mountains  that  in  the  East  would 
be  blazoned  in  song  and  story — all  robed  in  russet  yellow 
and  bluish  green.  Westward,  the  great  valley  of  San 
Bernardino  merges  in  the  far-off  silver  line  that  marks 
the  peaceful  sea,  the  dreary  leagues  of  barrenness  relieved 
by  the  refreshing  oases  of  Riverside  and  San  Bernardino, 
with  their  rich  meadows,  fair  groves  of  orange  and  lemon, 
shining  aqueducts,  and  embowered  homes, — all  witnesses 
to  the  wondrous  power  of  water. 


144       RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

And  there  to  the  north-west  another  mountain  rises 
from  the  plain  far  higher  than  any  of  the  great  moun- 
tains of  our  country,  except  Grayback  and  San  Jacinto ; 
and  far  above  the  sunlit  clouds  its  head  appears,  an 
emerald  island  on  a  silver  sea.  This  is  Cocamunga,  ten 
thousand  feet  in  height.  Just  beyond,  old  Baldy  tries  to 
rival  him,  while  over  his  base  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
orange-groves  of  the  far-off  City  of  the  Angels. 

And  what  are  those  objects  looming  so  dimly  huge  in 
the  far-off  north  ?  Can  they  be  the  outposts  of  the 
Sierras  ?  Even  so ;  and  there  on  the  right  are  the 
mountains  around  Death  Valley,  and,  far  off  in  the  east, 
the  faint  hazy  blue  of  the  mountains  of  Arizona. 

This  broad  track  of  desolation  to  the  north-east  gleam- 
ing with  withering  grimness  is  the  Mojave  Desert,  large  as 
Massachusetts;  and  that  one  to  the  south-east  is  the  ter- 
rible Colorado  Desert,  large  as  Connecticut  and  Rhode 
Island  together.  And  those  chaotic  masses  of  weltering 
desolation  that  divide  the  two  are  not  such  mountains 
as  welcome  the  parched  and  dying  traveler.  No  streams 
or  groves  will  the  thirsty  sufferer  find  there,  but  only 
dreariness  doubly  intensified  by  its  vast  extent. 

Half  an  hour  passed  away  while  Belville  was  naming 
to  Laura  the  various  points  and  landmarks  in  sight, 
and  at  last,  pointing  down  to  the  great  waste  of  sand 
below,  across  which  stretched  the  Southern  Pacific  Rail- 
road bearing  a  locomotive  at  full  speed,  and  looking  like 
a  cobweb  with  a  gnat,  he  said  : 

"  Miss  Laura,  as  you  see  that  desert,  such  is  my  life — 
a  barren  waste  with  but  a  single  thread  of  hope  reaching 
across  it,  and  that,  I  fear,  a  very  slight  one." 


THE  SILVER    TROUT  AT  HOME.  145 

"  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  it.  I  had  supposed  your  life 
must  be  a  very  happy  one,"  said  she  after  a  pause. 

"  It  was  until  I  met  you !  Until  then  I  had  known 
nothing  of  love  but  a  phosphorescent  gleam  or  two, 
dying  as  soon  as  born." 

She  sat  speechless  for  a  moment,  gazing  upon  the 
dreary  expanse  below  with  eye  as  vacant  as  the  gray 
sand  itself;  and  then,  as  the  blood  mounted  swiftly  into 
her  cheeks,  he  looked  full  into  her  face  and  said  : 

"Miss  Laura,  are  you  surprised?" 

"You  know  that  I  am  engaged,"  she  said  softly. 

"But  is  human  love  the  growth  of  human  will?"  he 
answered  quickly. 

She  sat  silent  and  looked  away  to  the  blue  wavy  line 
of  Arizona's  hills. 

"  Miss  Laura,"  said  he,  taking  her  hand  in  his,  while 
her  pulse  bounded  at  the  touch, "  I  loved  you  at  the  first 
sight,  and  for  you  alone  I  have  staid  away  so  long  from 
my  home,  and  remain  now  a  willing  prisoner." 

"Oh!  why  did  you?  Why  didn't  you  go  sooner?" 
she  asked  most  pleadingly,  and  turning  her  deep  dark 
eyes  upon  his  with  a  look  earnest  and  sorrowful. 

He  gazed  into  them  a  moment,  and  said,  "  Do  I  divine 
the  truth?  You  love  me  too?" 

She  was  silent,  and  dropped  her  eyes  to  the  ground ; 
but  there  was  a  starry  twinkle  in  them  that  was  not  the 
flash  of  indignation. 

"Is  it  not  so,  Laura?"  he  said.  "Is  it  not  so?  You 
love  me  too?" 

"  God  knows  how  hard  I  have  tried  not  to,"  she  mur- 
mured at  length. 


146         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"  Oh  thanks !  sweet  one,  for  that  confession.  I  too 
have  tried,  but  all  in  vain,"  he  said  with  a  long  sigh  of 
relief. 

And  now  what  will  become  of  her  poor  invalid  lover 
who  lies  eight  thousand  feet  below,  on  a  white  boulder 
beside  a  foaming  pool  in  the  shade  of  the  glistening 
leaves  of  the  great  alders,  musing  on  his  darkened  life, 
and  thinking  of  the  only  star  that  twinkles  through  the 
rifts  of  the  heavy  cloud  that  overcast  his  once  brilliant 
sky? 

There  is  a  silvery  flash  in  the  boiling  water  where  his 
line  is  whirling,  a  jerk,  a  tug,  and  up  comes  a  struggling 
curve  of  opalescence,  describing  an  arc  in  air  as  it  slips 
back  from  the  half-caught  hook,  and  falls  with  a  splash 
into  the  bubbling  pool  again.  Does  this  remind  him  of 
any  of  the  pearly  hopes  of  life  ?  He  alone  knows.  But 
is  there  not  a  strange  brilliancy  in  those  sunken  eyes  that 
is  not  entirely  the  sparkle  of  assurance  ?  And  is  not  his 
face  at  times  like  an  April  day — half  May,  half  March  ? 

But  quickly  the  clouds  disappear  again,  and  a  June 
noonday  spreads  over  his  face  as  another  gleam  darts 
through  the  green  water.  Swish !  goes  the  line,  and  a 
flashing  fish  comes  flopping  and  wriggling  out.  What 
is  there  about  the  capture  of  that  poor  fish  that  can 
so  chase  the  sadness  from  his  heart?  Not  over  ten 
inches  long,  its  sides  like  mother-of-pearl  with  little 
stars  of  jet,  its  back  a  bright  olive  green,  its  head  and 
mouth  larger  than  those  of  the  Eastern  trout — it  is  the 
silver  trout  of  California.  Surely  such  a  poor  little  in- 
nocent cannot  so  stir  the  life-blood  of  a  full-grown  man  ? 
He  who  has  felt  the  electric  tingle  of  a  "bite"  needs  no 


THE  SILVER    TROUT  AT  HOME.  147 

answer.  He  who  has  not,  and  who  weighs  all  pleasure 
on  the  dull  scales  of  utility,  cannot  be  answered.  The 
only  answer  that  can  be  made  is  that  it  is  trout-fishing — 
inferior,  indeed,  to  that  of  the  East,  but  trout-fishing 
nevertheless. 

It  is  not  without  full  deliberation  that  I  say  it  is  infe- 
rior to  the  Eastern  fishing,  and  I  know  that  the  state- 
ment will  outrage  the  feelings  of  some  Californians. 

Almost  as  immense  as  the  difference  between  what  a 
Chinaman  can  live  on  when  he  pays  for  it  himself  and 
the  amount  he  can  hold  when  his  employer  pays  for  it, 
is  the  difference  between  these  two  trout.  Like  the 
warm  hand-shake  of  the  anxious  candidate  is  the  strike 
of  the  crimson-starred  beauty  of  the  Eastern  brook,  and 
vigorously  he  hugs  the  dark  water.  When  he  comes  out 
at  last,  he  flops  and  fights  in  death,  and  does  not  give 
up  even  in  the  creel.  He  steers  clear  of  seductive  bait. 
Although  in  his  primeval  innocence  he  may  be  caught 
by  the  rustic  lout  with  cotton  string  and  worm,  yet  he 
soon  becomes  wise,  and  it  requires  the  cunning  head  and 
skillful  hand  to  take  him  with  success. 

But  tell  me  not  in  lying  numbers  that  our  trout  is  like 
to  this.  Like  to  the  oystery  palm  of  the  defeated  candi- 
date is  his  grab  at  the  hook,  and  he  hugs  the  water  more 
like  a  bag  of  shot  than  like  a  slippery  beauty  actively 
obstinate.  He  struggles  and  flops  indeed  on  coming 
out,  but  it  is  more  like  the  nervous  energy  of  instinct 
than  the  desperate  vigor  that  seems  determined  to  con- 
quer. 

There  are  two  varieties  of  this  trout,  though  the  dif- 
ference is  with  much  show  of  reason  attributed  to  the 


148      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

different  color  of  the  bottom  of  the  brook.  Those  found 
in  white  or  light  bottomed  brooks,  where  the  water  looks 
green  and  the  foam  is  snowy  white,  are  said  to  be  of 
a  light  pearly  color,  with  light  olive-green  backs ;  while 
those  found  in  dark-bottomed  brooks  have  the  color  of 
tarnished  silver  on  the  sides  and  are  quite  dark  on  the 
back.  Sometimes,  however,  the  dark  ones  are  found  in 
the  light-bottomed  brooks.  The  flesh  of  these  latter  also 
has  sometimes  a  reddish  tinge,  and  they  are  therefore 
called  by  some  the  "  salmon  trout,"  while  the  other  is 
the  "silver  trout." 

It  is  barely  possible  that  both  theories  are'  correct, 
that  there  are  two  varieties,  differing  slightly,  and  that 
their  colors  are  also  affected  by  the  color  of  the  bottom, 
In  the  brooks  of  San  Bernardino  County  the  silver  trout 
is  much  the  more  abundant,  and  the  brook  bottoms  are 
nearly  all  very  light,  and  in  places  nearly  white. 

But  there  is  no  perceptible  difference  in  the  action 
of  these  fish  on  the  hook.  Both  are  decidedly  defi- 
cient in  the  gaminess  and  wariness  which  give  such  a 
charm  to  the  Eastern  trout.  Both  can  be  caught  in  fair 
quantity  by  the  tyro,  and  need  comparatively  little  skill 
in  either  hooking  or  landing.  But  then  they  are  trout, 
after  all,  and  though  not  entitled  to  the  throne  are 
nevertheless  of  royal  lineage.  It  is  a  dull  soul  that  can- 
not enjoy  the  society  of  this  little  beauty  or  appreciate 
the  wild  splendors  of  his  romantic  home. 

While  Norton  muses  upon  his  gloomy  prospects,  as  he 
sees  them,  a  little  comedy  is  going  on  behind  his  back 
that  threatens  his  happiness  more  than  he  dreams  of. 


THE   SILVER    TROUT  AT  HOME.  149 

"  How  shall  I  tell  Charley  ?  I  can't  bear  to  tell  him," 
said  the  faithless  friend  on  whose  devotion  he  had  been 
so  long  meditating  with  pleasure,  without  whose  com- 
panionship he  would  not  have  come  so  far  from  home, 
and  without  whom  he  would  not  stay,  even  now. 

"  You  need  not,"  replied  the  other  false  friend,  whom 
he  had  chosen  as  a  companion,  physician,  and  guide  to 
pleasure  and  health.  "You  need  not.  Let  the  poor 
fellow  go  down  to  his  grave  with  all  the  comfort  that 
you  can  give  him." 

"Mercy!  Why,  you  don't  think  he's  going  to  die?" 
she  exclaimed  with  astonishment. 

"  I  don't  think  it — I  know  it !  I  have  watched  him 
carefully,  and  have  seen  all  along  that  the  poor  fellow  is 
not  long  for  this  world;  not  long  to  be  with  us — or  to 
part  us!"  said  Bel ville,  looking  at  Laura  with  mingled 
sympathy  and  tenderness — tenderness  for  her,  and  sym- 
pathy for  their  suffering  friend  whom  he  pitied  while  he 
robbed  him  of  his  love.  "  When  he  came  last  winter," 
he  added,  "he  was  in  that  condition  where  one  wavers 
long  upon  the  turning  point,  but  where  not  to  advance 
is  most  decidedly  to  fall  back." 

"O  Doctor!  I  hope  you  are  mistaken.  I  could  not 
have  him  die ;  for  I  did  love  him,  and  I  do  love  him  !  I 
cannot  put  the  old  love  out  of  my  heart,  although  a 
greater  love  has  come  into  it." 

"  Well,  he  deserves  your  affection  and  mine,  and  we 
would  not  wound  him.  Let  us  smooth  his  downward 
pathway  as  much  as  we  can.  It  would  be  a  kindness  to 
keep  from  him  what  would  grieve  him — perhaps  hasten  his 
death — and  what  is  really  not  necessary  for  him  to  know." 


150         RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

NOTE — In  laying  the  scene  of  the  present  chapter,  the  author  has 
been  moved  by  a  desire  to  call  attention  to  a  noble  and  lofty 
mountain  that  has  long  been  supposed  almost  inaccessible,  but 
which  is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  easiest  to  climb  in  California,  and 
which  commands  a  wider  view  than  almost  any  mountain  in  the 
country. 

A  year  ago  I  started  for  its  top  with  two  companions.  Most 
discouraging  accounts  of  its  difficulties  were  given  us  from  every 
quarter,  and  we  could  find  but  one  man  in  San  Bernardino  who 
had  ever  climbed  it,  but  plenty  who  had  started  and  backed  out. 
We  had  not  gone  a  hundred  miles  to  be  deterred  from  at  least 
making  a  desperate  attempt.  We  climbed  it  on  foot,  camping  for 
two  nights  in  a  beautiful  meadow  three  thousand  feet  below  the 
top.  On  our  return  we  pronounced  all  the  discouraging  talk  pure 
nonsense,  and  declared  that  a  horse  could  be  ridden  by  a  lady  to 
the  very  summit. 

Our  experience  induced  several  other  parties  to  try  the  ascent, 
and,  as  we  predicted,  some  ladies  actually  went  to  the  top.  One 
comrade  of  mine,  an  old  civil  engineer,  familiar  with  the  highest 
mountains  of  Colorado,  pronounced  this  the  easiest  mountain  he 
had  ever  climbed,  with  the  widest  view  from  its  top  that  he  had 
ever  seen. 

To  the  U  S.  survey  Grayback  is  known  as  "Grizzly  Peak." 
The  official  measurement  of  its  height  is  11,723  feet  above  sea- 
level,  or  about  n  ooo  feet  above  the  desert  and  plains  around. 
San  Jacinto  is  10,987  feet  in  height,  while  the  desert,  eight  miles 
from  its  top,  is  only  725  feet  high,  and  the  San  Jacinto  plains  are 
about  1,500  feet  above  sea  level. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  GREAT  AMERICAN  TROUT-SWINE. 

THE  Indian,  the  Mexican,  and  the  Spaniard  long 
held  this  land  of  which  we  write,  yet  the  game 
increased  in  their  time  rather  than  diminished.  The 
antelope  slept  within  sound  of  the  fandango,  the  elk  flour- 
ished among  the  ranchero's  cattle,  the  trout  flashed  in 
the  brook  by  the  Indian's  rancheria,  and  the  deer  drank 
by  his  temescal.  Say  not  that  these  men  knew  nothing  of 
the  chase,  or  were  too  lazy  to  follow  it  for  pleasure  or 
for  food.  This  can  hardly  be  said  of  men  who  could 
outride  the  elk  or  the  antelope  on  the  plain,  and  lasso 
and  bind  the  grizzly  in  his  rugged  hills.  They  were 
ardent  enough  hunters  in  their  way.  They  lacked  only 
the  spirit  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  who  go  to  work  at  the 
game  of  a  country  like  a  drove  of  swine  at  a  pile  of  grain, 
beginning  at  the  top  and  trampling  and  destroying  ten 
times  what  would  suffice  for  their  real  wants. 

Why  is  it  that  even  here,  in  this  far  corner  of  our 
country,  amid  these  beautiful  and  abundant  streams,  it  is 
necessary  to  toil  for  miles  over  great  boulder-washes,  and 
penetrate  the  very  heart  of  the  mountain,  to  find  plenty 
of  trout  ?  And  why,  even  here,  are  they  fast  fading  from 
the  places  that  knew  them?  Let  the  great  American 
trout-hog  answer,  for  here  he  comes. 

We   see   a   rabbit-like   complacency  of  countenance/ 


152     RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA: 

corn-silk  locks,  caterpillar  mustache,  butterfly  necktie, 
functus  officio  paper  collar,  and  lark-heeled  boots.  He 
has  a  small  champagne  basket  strapped  on  his  back, 
a  quart  oyster-can  of  grasshoppers  and  worms,  a  line 
with  two  or  three  hooks  on  a  pole  and  half  a  dozen 
extra  ones  in  his  pocket,  a  soul  that  would  rattle  in  a 
dried  flea-skin,  and  an  abysmal  stomach  that  yearneth 
evermore  for  trout. 

He  has  already  over  fifty  trout  in  his  basket — twice  as 
many  as  any  man  should  catch  in  one  day ;  more  than 
would  satisfy  the  most  exacting  of  his  four-footed  brethren. 
Yet  he  skips  along  from  pool  to  pool  and  from  riffle  to  riffle 
under  the  elastic  impulse  of  the  only  love  he  ever  felt, 
the~love  of  a  poor  little  trout,  debased  to  the  worst  and 
last  use  to  which  game  can  be  put — cooking.  He  tosses  in 
his  line  with  countenance  eager  as  a  cat's  at  a  mouse's 
hole,  and  his  face  is  radiant  as  a  newly  made  bride- 
groom's when  a  little  fish,  a  finger  long,  conies  shimmer- 
ing out  of  the  water  with  feeble  struggles. 

But,  surely,  he  will  put  that  back  ? 

Of  course — back  into  the  hole  in  the  basket !  Doth  it 
not  count  one  ? 

Soon  another  comes  out  only  a  trifle  larger.  Too 
small  yet  even  for  him  who  was  made  only  a  little 
higher  than  the  brutes,  instead  of  (as  has  long  been  erro- 
neously supposed)  "a  little  lower  than  the  angels."  But 
not  too  small  for  ihisflorcus.  Joy  elevates  his  snout  as 
he  slides  the  fish  through  the  hole  in  his  basket. 

But  what  good  is  such  a  fingerling? 

Go  to!  thou  ignoramus!  Doth  it  n\ot  count?  Are 
not  its  feeble  bones  tender  ?  Will  it  not,  in  the  frying- 


THE   GREAT  AMERICAN   TROUT-SWINE.       153 

pan,  sing  celestial  music  to  his  soul  ?  And  so,  the  live- 
long day,  he  skips  from  pool  to  pool  with  tireless  sole,  as 
if  the  great  problem  of  life  were  to  see  how  many  of 
these  beautiful  creatures  could  possibly  be  destroyed  in 
one  day.  What  to  him  is  the  allegro  of  the  swift-rushing 
stream,  the  maestoso  of  the  boiling  pool,  the  andante  of 
the  wind  in  the  pines  above !  He  is  deaf  to  all  music 
but  the  sputtering  expostulation  of  a  poor  little  trout  in 
the  frying-pan. 

What  cares  he  for  the  ice-cold  stream  of  crystal,  dash- 
ing itself  into  sparkling  spray  as  it  leaps  down  that  cliff 
from  its  high  mountain  home,  then  foaming  away  through 
long  ranks  of  stately  alders,  whirling  around  white  boul- 
ders, boiling  in  deep  pools  of  green  and  white,  glancing 
through  narrows,  shimmering  over  shallows,  plunging 
down  steep  rocks !  Excuse  me ;  he  does  appreciate  it, 
too.  It's  quite  convenient  to  wash  his  fish,  to  water  his 
horse,  to  make  his  coffee ! 

What  to  him  are  the  stupendous  slopes  above,  the  tur- 
reted  battlements  and  granite  castles,  floating  like  silver 
islands  in  the  morning's  dissolving  clouds  or  burning 
with  purple  fire  in  the  evening  sun !  Or  the  grand  old 
forests,  so  refreshing  to  the  denizen  of  the  sun-baked 
plains ;  the  pure,  cool  morning  air  or  the  view  down  the 
great  falling  valley  as  the  sun  floods  it  with  his  last  beams  ! 
His  eyes  are  blind  to  all  but  a  "nicely  browned"  trout. 

The  morning  passes,  and  he  has  ninety  in  his  basket. 
He  meets  his  comrade,  who  has  about  eighty.  And  now, 
surely,  they  are  done ;  for  the  prince  of  swine  could  ask 
no  more  than  this.  And  see,  too,  they  are  taking  off  their 
baskets  and  winding  up  their  lines. 


154     RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

Yes,  they  are  done.  Done  with  such  slow  work  as  this! 
Not  thus  can  proper  homage  be  paid  to  the  idols  of  the 
great  American  porcus — the  palate,  and  the  score !  The 
stream  shall  be  turned,  for  trout  must  be  had  quicker 
and  with  less  work. 

And  now,  mark  how  they  dam  up  the  stream  and  turn 
its  current  aside ;  and  see  the  halo  of  delight  that  en- 
wreathes  each  snout  when  the  old  channel  is  nearly  dry 
and  the  sordid  fingers  grab  up  the  poor  little  flopping 
silver-sides !  And  see  how  they  gloat  over  the  struggling 
opalescence  and  writhing  green  in  the  basket,  while  their 
palates  throb  with  joy  as  happy  fancy  hovers  over  the 
sizzling  frying-pan  !  O  Nature !  why  dost  thou  not 
whip  such  wretches  around  to  thy  kitchen  door,  instead 
of  allowing  them  to  root  in  thy  drawing-rooms ! 

The  next  day  Belville  proposed  a  change  of  sporting 
grounds,  and  suggested  various  desirable  places  to  try 
next.  "The  Santa  Anna,"  said  he,  "just  across  this  big 
mountain,  is  the  best  fishing-ground  in  the  country;  but 
for  a  change  of  scenery  I  think  we  had  better  go  to  the 
middle  fork  of  Lytle  Creek  in  the  heart  of  the  Cucamunga. 
We  ought  to  go  there,  any  way,  if  only  for  variety,  and 
though  trout  are  not  nearly  so  plenty  -there  as  in  the 
Santa  Anna,  we  shall  still  find  all  we  want." 

"  Anywhere  that  we  can  ride,"  said  Norton,  languidly. 
"  I'm  very  much  opposed  to  tramping  among  these  boul- 
ders." 

"  Our  horses  can  go  anywhere,  and  when  we  get  to 
Lytle  Creek  we  can  hire  our  things  packed  to  our  camp- 
ing-place. We'd  better  start  early  to-morrow  morning." 


THE   GREAT  AMERICAN   TROUT-SWINE.      155 

"All  right,  then,  if  the  ladies  are  willing,"  said  Norton, 
as  he  stretched  himself  out  for  a  nap  on  his  bed  of  spruce 
boughs,  and  Belville  started  to  the  creek  where  Laura 
had  gone  to  fish.  He  found  her  a  little  way  above  the 
camp,  in  the  shade  of  the  shining  alders,  leaning  over  a 
big  white  boulder,  with  her  line  and  bait  whirling  in  the 
foaming  water  below.  As  he  approached  her,  there  was 
a  tug  and  a  rush  of  the  line  as  it  tightened  on  the  pole, 
a  silvery  gleam  for  an  instant  at  the  surface  as  the  fair 
fisher  raised  the  rod,  and  the  bare  hook  came  swinging 
out. 

"A  big  fellow,  that !"  said  Belville,  just  catching  a 
glimpse  of  him  as  he  came  up.  "  You  have  too  much 
slack  in  your  line  to  hook  him  in  such  a  small  brook  as 
this." 

So  saying,  he  took  the  pole  and  wound  in  half  the 
line,  and  said,  "  Now  slip  around  to  the  other  side,  keep- 
ing well  out  of  sight,  and  rest  your  pole  over  that  little 
boulder.  Keep  it  stiff,  and  let  the  fish  hook  himself." 

Monstrous  as  this  may  seem  to  many  an  angler,  it  is 
often  the  only  way  to  hook  these  fish  successfully.  The 
best  fisherman  in  these  mountains  generally  uses  a  stiff 
pole  with  a  very  short  line,  which  he  pokes  in  between 
the  rocks  or  trees  and  allows  the  fish  to  hook  themselves. 
Unskillful  and  mechanical  as  it  is,  it  has  often  to  be 
resorted  to  where  the  trees,  branches,  and  rocks  are  very 
numerous  and  close  together. 

Swinging  around  behind  the  boulders  so  as  to  keep 
out  of  sight,  Laura  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  pool, 
and,  stooping  low  as  directed,  she  ran  the  rod  through  a 
broad  open  space  and  rested  it  over  a  low  boulder.  The, 


156      RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

line  and   hook  whirled    and  danced    upon   the   boiling 
white  water,  which  rested  not  from  its  last  tumble,  but 
fumed   and    seethed   in   haste    to    reach    the   next   fall.  ' 
Around,  on  all  sides,  were  the  glossy  brown  trunks  and 
shimmering  green  leaves  of  the  alders,  covering  all  with 
shade.     Laura  then  sat  down  upon  an  almost  pure  white 
boulder,  and,  dipping  her  cup  into  the  ice-cold  water,  ] 
which  hissed  and  frothed  like  a  soda  fountain,  she  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Fishing  is  splendid,  isn't  it ;  whether  you  catch  any- 
thing or  not?" 

"  Such  fishing  as  this  is.  But  when  it  comes  to  sit- 
ting on  a  stump  by  a  mill-pond  on  a  hot  day  for  five 
hours  without  a  bite,  you — " 

The  line  tightened  with  a  jerk  that  twitched  the  rod 
off  the  boulder  and  elicited  a  dainty  shriek  from  the  fair 
angler  that  cut  short  Belville's  remark.  She  recovered 
both  herself  and  the  pole  in  time  to  draw  out  the  hook 
again  bare  of  either  bait  or  fish. 

"  You  must  pay  strict  attention,  you  see ;  fish  incline 
to  be  slippery,"  said  Belville.  "  I  guess  I  shall  have  to 
give  you  another  lesson." 

He  came  and  sat  beside  her  and  showed  her  how  to 
hold  the  pole,  and  in  a  moment  more  there  was  another 
faint  flash  in  the  water  and  a  quick  heavy  tug  upon  the 
line. 

"  He's  fast.     Now  pull  him  out !" 

She  gave  a  pull,  but  found  "pulling  him  out"  quite 
another  matter,  for  the  fish  dragged  and  jerked  as 
though  the  best  pulling  might  be  on  the  other  side. 
Summoning  all  her  energies  for  the  task,  she  gave  the 


THE    GREAT  AMERICAN    TROUT-SWINE.      157 

pole  a  mighty  swing,  and  landed  the  hook  in  a  bunch 
of  drift  six  feet  above  the  water,  where  it  stuck  in  the 
crotch  of  an  alder ;  while  the  struggling  beam  of  silvery 
light  that  accompanied  it  to  the  surface  shot  down  again 
in  a  shining  curve  to  the  bottom. 

"I  shall  never  learn  it  in  the  world!"  said  she  in 
despair. 

"You  must  pull  more  steadily  and  not  with  such  a 
jerk.  Try  him  again.  These  fish  will  bite  a  dozen 
times  and  sometimes  take  hold  again  after  being 
dropped  on  shore  and  flopping  back.  Imitate  their 
perseverance,  and  you  will  succeed." 

The  hook  was  soon  rescued,  baited,  and  whirling  in 
the  foam  again.  Soon  there  was  a  new  tug  at  the  line, 
and  the  hook  under  the  impulse  of  her  nervous  arm 
went  on  another  exploring  tour  among  the  leaves  above. 
A  small  fish  followed  it  about  half  way  up  and  went 
wiggling  and  shimmering  back  to  the  pool  below. 

Belville  again  fixed  the  hook  and  laid  his  hand  on  the 
pole  to  steady  it  for  her.  It  was  not  long  before  there 
was  a  heavy  pull  upon  it,  for  these  fish,  like  mining- 
stock  gudgeons,  often  return  to  the  hook  while  their 
jaws  are  yet  bleeding  from  the  former  bite.  Belville 
held  the  rod  firmly  until  sure  that  the  fish  was  fast;  then 
steadily  but  rapidly  he  raised  it  and  drew  in  a  vigorously- 
flapping  beauty  a  foot  long,  showering  silvery  rays  from 
its  thrashing  sides  of  pearl. 

"There  are  probably  some  more  in  there,"  he  said,  as 
he  took  it  off.  "Try  it  again." 

A  few  minutes  passed,  when  a  faint  "jiggle"  on  the 
line  startled  Laura  from  her  composure,  and  in  a  twink- 


158      RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

ling  a  tiny  little  fish  was  hung  up  to  dry  on  an  alder 
limb. 

"Is  that  the  way  you  hang  your  victims?"  said  Bel- 
ville,  as  he  hauled  it  in  and  tossed  it  back  into  the  next 
pool  below.  "  You  must  positively  be  more  gentle,  or 
you  will  never  catch  a  big  one." 

"  I  think  I'll  do  pretty  well  if  I  catch  a  small  one.  I 
haven't  caught  even  one  yet  on  this  trip." 

"  Except  the  big  one  you  caught  yesterday,"  said  Bel- 
ville,  significantly. 

"Why,  I  didn't  fish  yesterday." 

"No.  The  fish  did  all  the  work  himself,  and,  like 
these,  hooked  himself.  But,  Laura,  it  seems  so  like  a 
dream  to  me;  I  can  hardly  realize  it." 

"Oh!"  said  she,  coloring,  as  she  saw  his  meaning. 
"  Your  simile  is  a  bad  one.  People  awake  from  dreams." 

"  But  I  never  shall  unless  you  wake  me." 

"Sleep  on  then,  happy  dreamer!" 

"  But  you  must  be  careful,  too,  not  to  wake  your  other 
dreamer." 

"  I  dread  that  more  than  anything,  for  I  do  love 
Charley.  It's  an  anomalous  situation,  I  must  confess, 
to  love  two  persons  at  once.  And  yet  I  do  really  love 
Charley  still,  and  could  not  bear  to  hurt  his  feelings." 

"  I  can  understand  your  feelings  exactly,  though,  as 
you  say,  the  situation  is  anomalous.  I  really  feel  all  the 
more  complimented  by  the  strength  of  your  regard  for 
him.  His  condition  relieves  us  from  any  trouble  about 
breaking  the  news  to  him.  You  have  only  to  soothe  his 
declining  days  with  your  love,  and — " 

"What !  play  the  hypocrite?" 


THE   GREAT  AMERICAN   TROUT-SWINE.       159 

"Confound  it!"  thought  Belville,  "I'm  always  spilling 
my  words  on  one  side  or  the  other  when  I  try  to  balance 
them." 

"No,"  said  he  aloud,  "that's  not  what  I  mean.  You 
can  still  be  as  friendly  to  him  as  ever  without  being 
hypocritical." 

"  And  leaving  him  to  infer  that  I  am  still — " 

"  His  own  ?  Yes,  if  he  chooses.  Are  you  responsible 
for  his  inferences  ?"  interrupted  Belville. 

"  I  gall  that  hypocrisy." 

"  Possibly  it  is.  But  I  think  a  deception  is  pardon- 
able that  is  undertaken  solely  from  kind  motives.  Were 
he  to  live  an  explanation  would  of  course  be  necessary, 
but  as  it  is " 

A  sound  of  some  one  coming  interrupted  them,  and  in 
another  moment  Miss  Norton  joined  them.  She  dis- 
played a  respectable  string  of  fish  with  a  proud  smile 
that  outshone  the  silvery  sides  of  the  prizes  themselves, 
and  said  as  she  sat  down  : 

"  This  is  just  delightful.  What !  only  one  ?  You 
have  not  been  fishing  much,  I  guess." 

"Oh,  she  don't  catch  anything  but  big  ones,"  said 
Belville,  "and  I'm  not  fishing  at  all." 

"  She's  caught  the  biggest  one  yet,  hasn't  she  ?"  said 
Evy,  holding  up  admiringly  the  big  fellow  that  Belville 
bad  landed.  "  I  tried  a  big  one  down  below  here,  but 
could  not  catch  him." 

"They're  very  easy.  Only  let  them  alone  and  they'll 
hook  themselves.  The  larger  they  grow,  the  more  they 
exhibit  this  tendency,"  said  Belville,  with  face  as  sober 
as  the  pine-clad  heights  above. 


160      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  back  and  stay  with  Charley,"  said 
Laura,  "  and  leave  you  and  the  Doctor  to  catch  fish 
enough  for  breakfast." 

"What  a  false  position  I  stand  in!"  she  soliloquized, 
when  alone.  "  May  heaven  help  me !  I  do  not  mean  to 
do  wrong,  yet  how  can  I  help  loving  both ;  loving  one 
more  than  the  other,  yet  loving  the  other  too  much  to 
tell  him  what  I  should.  Heaven  forgive  me  if  I  am 
wrong.  I  do  not  mean  to  be." 

•  •  # 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  have  come,  Laura,"  said  Norton, 
with  a  smile,  when  she  had  reached  the  camp. 

"I  knew  you  would  be  lonely  when  Evy  left,  so  I 
came  right  away." 

"  Yes,  Laura,  I  was  very  lonely,  as  I  always  am  with- 
out you.  And  I  have  something  I  am  very  anxious  to 
tell  you.  Laura,  I  am  dying!"  He  spoke  in  a  deep, 
solemn  tone,  and  fixed  his  dark,  sunken  eyes,  burning 
with  weird  brilliancy,  full  upon  hers. 

"  Why,  Charley!     How  can  you  talk  so?" 

"Yes,  Laura,  dying.  Dying  by  the  day,"  he  said  with 
the  same  tone  and  look. 

"Why  Charley,  you  are  looking  better  every  day." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  with  a  tinge  of  bitterness,  "  the  sun 
and  wind  improve  the  color.  But  such  skin-deep  re- 
covery does  not  deceive  me  in  the  least.  The  oil  is 
burnt  out  and  it  is  only  the  fast-charring  wick  you  see, 
an4  soon  its  light  will  cease.  Laura,  there  is  just  one 
thing  left  for  me  now ;  just  one  thing.  It  lies  in  your 
power,  and  in  yours  alone,  to  brighten  the  few  days  that 
yet  remain  for  me." 


THE  GREAT  AMERICAN  TROUT  SWINE.  161 
.  ^ 

"Charley,  you  have  the  'hypo.'  You  are  surely 
stronger  than  when  you  came  here.  Let's  go  fish  a  little, 
and  that  will  cheer  you  up.  To-morrow  we  start  for  the 
Cucamunga  Mountains,  and  they  say  the  scenery  there 
is  even  finer  than  this.  There  is  more  variety  there," 
said  she ;  adding  in  a  light  gay  voice,  "  and  a  little  vari- 
ety will  send  your  spirits  up,  up,  up!" 

It  produced  no  effect,  however,  and  he  continued  in 
the  same  tone  and  with  the  same  look  : 

"  There  is  one  thing,  Laura,  for  which  I  have  tried — 
oh !  so  hard — to  live.  Otherwise,  I  should  willingly 
have  staid  at  home  and  allowed  death  to  work  his  will 
with  me.  But  for  your  sake  I  have  come  here  and 
tried  to  live.  That  hope  has  been  vain,  Laura,  and 
already  I  feel  rising  fast  around  me  the  dark  tide  that 
will  soon  overwhelm  me.  Laura,  must  I  die  without 
seeing  the  dream  of  my  life  fulfilled  ?" 

"  I  hope  not,  Charley.  I  hope  you  will  recover,"  she 
faltered. 

"  Laura,  lay  that  out  of  the  question.  / — know.  But 
whether  I  recover  or  not,  why  should  we  wait  any 
longer?  Why  not  unite  now  our  hands  as  well  as  our 
hearts?  And  if  I  die — " 

"Charley!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  half  scream,  "how 
can  you  talk  so  ?  Don't !  don't !" 

"Well;  if  I  live,  then?"  said  he,  earnestly. 

"I  hope  you  will.  I  know  you  will,"  said  she,  brushing 
a  tear  from  her  bright  eye. 

"  Then  it  will  only  anticipate  what's  to  happen  anyhow 
before  a  great  while." 

A  low  "  yes"  slipped  out  before  she  knew  it.     She 


162      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA, 

attempted  to  recall  it;  but  a  troop  of  strange  feelings 
filled  her  breast,  and  embarrassment  strangled  the  half- 
framed  retraction  before  her  tongue  began  to  utter  it. 

"  Then,  Laura,  let  us  be  married  when  we  get  to  San 
Bernardino!"  said  he,  quickly. 

Again  she  decided  to  tell  the  truth;  but  the  fire  of 
embarrassment  withered  the  thought  ere  it  could  bloom 
into  words. 

"Why  be  in  such  haste,  Charley?"  she  said  at  length, 
finding  all  other  words  stick  on  her  tongue. 

"  Laura,  can  anything  be  haste  for  a  dying  man,  for 
one  who  is  doubly  dying,  dying  for  your  love  as  well 
as—" 

He  left  the  sentence  unfinished,  but  his  thought  was 
plainly  interpreted  by  his  agonized  and  pleading  ex- 
pression. 

"  But  what  will  people  say  ?" 

"  They  will  say  you  did  right,  of  course.  What  else 
could  they  say?" 

"  Of  course  it  would  be  right.  I  didn't  mean  that; 
I  mean,  what  will  papa  say  ?  I  shall  have  to  speak  to 
him  about  it  first." 

"  I  took  care  of  that,  and  have  his  consent  here  in  his 
last  letter.  He  says  you  may  do  whatever  you  think 
best." 

As  a  poor  weary  hare,  cut  off  at  every  turn,  sometimes 
sits  bewildered  nor  again  attempts  to  run,  so  Laura  pub- 
sided  into  silence,  which  to  her  great  relief  was  soon 
broken  by  the  nimble  tongue  of  Belville,  who  came  in 
chattering  to  Miss  Norton. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN    THE    HEART    OF    CUCAMUNGA. 

NEARLY  ten  thousand  feet  above  the  San  Ber- 
nardino plains,  Cucamunga  rears  his  dark  green 
head,  a  pyramid  of  spruce  and  fir  rising  from  long  pine- 
clad  shoulders,  seeming  when  long  cloud-banks  lie  along 
his  breast  a  floating  island  on  a  sea  of  foam.  On  th.e 
south  the  rise  is  swift  and  unbroken,  but  on  the  north 
the  mountain  tumbles  away  in  tremendous  ravines,  val- 
leys, gulches,  ridges,  and  smaller  peaks.  In  the  heart  of 
this  portion  trickle  from  the  snow-banks  and  the  great 
reservoirs  of  the  rocks  the  three  forks  of  Lytle  Creek, 
once  the  home  of  innumerable  silver  trout  and  still  the 
home  of  enough  for  any  one  but  the  great  American 
trout-porcus. 

It  was  still  early  in  the  day  when  Belville  drove  his 
friends  over  a  divide  and  down  into  the  little  place  of 
Mrs.  Glenn — a  bright  oasis  in  a  wild  rolling  desert  of 
granite,  gravel,  boulder,  and  hill,  pine-clad  heights,  and 
foot-hills  robed  in  chaparral,  with  the  north  fork  of  the 
creek  sparkling  through  the  long  deep  valley  in  the  cen- 
ter. 

"  You  will  travel  many  thousand  miles  before  you  see 
another  such  cloud-cascade  as  that,"  said  Belville,  point- 
ing upward  toward  the  southern  sky. 

Driven  by  the  sea-wind  against  the  southern  slope  of 


164      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

Cucamunga,  miles  of  cloud  had  been  carried  up  the 
slope  far  beyond  their  natural  level,  and,  sweeping  over 
the  long  shoulders  of  the  mountain,  came  tumbling  down 
again  into  the  tremendous  gorge  of  the  creek.  Great 
billowy  masses  flowed  over  the  fir-clad  crest  of  the  vast 
wall,  and  down  hundreds  of  feet  they  rolled  over  each 
other,  till  they  reached  the  proper  level.  Then  closing 
up  in  orderly  array  they  resumed  their  northward  march. 
Their  backs  of  snowy  white  and  edges  of  silver  and 
pearl,  where  the  sun  struck  through,  lent  a  deeper  shade 
to  the  serried  ranks  of  pine  or  fir  that  showed  here  and 
there  through  the  rifts  of  the  great  fleecy  flood,  and  a 
darker  tint  to  the  soft  blue  sky  out  of  which  the  snowy 
cascade  seemed  to  come. 

By  noon  the  tourists,  with  their  camp  equipage  packed 
on  their  horses,  were  making  their  way  up  the  middle 
fork  of  the  creek.  Like  all  creeks  in  these  mountains 
this  one  comes  hissing  down  an  immense  boulder-wash, 
with  a  fall  of  hundreds  of  feet  to  the  mile,  its  course 
marked  by  a  long  line  of  green  alders  amid  a  wild  chaos 
of  boulder  and  gravel.  Over  all  this  the  horses  picked 
their  cautious  way  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  and  a  half  an 
hour.  The  cloud-cascade  was  no  longer  seen,  and  the 
sides  of  the  great  ravine  shone  clear  and  bright  in  the 
midday  sun.  The  long  white  slides  that  furrowed  the 
walls,  the  great  boulders  hanging  along  them,  the  dark 
pockets  of  serried  pines  that  marked  the  heads  of  the 
gulches,  the  gray  castles  of  granite  that  rose  here  and 
there  from  the  forests  of  fir  or  spruce  along  the  moun- 
tain-tops, were  all  now  close  around.  Before  them  five 
vast  pyramids  of  boulder,  cliff,  fir,  and  chaparral  rose 


IN   THE  HEART  OF  CUCAMUNGA.  165 

thousands  of  feet  on  high,  crowding  together  like  a 
family  of  giants  standing  for  a  picture,  and  seeming  to 
bar  all  farther  progress,  while  to  right,  to  left,  behind, 
wheresoever  one  turned,  great  barriers  shut  out  the 
world. 

Four  miles  were  passed  and  the  stream  rushed  and 
roared  more  furiously,  the  boulders  grew  larger  and 
whiter,  the  sand  that  covered  the  bottom  and  edges  of 
the  little  pools  became  like  snow,  and  the  water  seemed 
greener  and  colder.  The  fall  was  fast  becoming  so 
great,  and  driftwood  and  heavy  boulders  so  numerous, 
that  it  was  decided  to  stop ;  and  soon  a  little  alcove  in 
the  hills  was  found  where  some  campers  had  been  before, 
and  here  the  camp  was  pitched. 

The  creek  at  this  point  spread  out  in  a  succession  of 
small  pools  of  boiling  green  water  over  a  white  bottom. 
Short  cascades  plunged  over  the  white  rocks  in  the  dense 
shade  of  the  rank  alders.  Here  was  a  part  of  the  stream 
that  the  great  American  trout-porcus  could  not  turn 
from  its  course — a  place  where  no  net  or  other  device 
but  the  hook  could  be  used ;  and  consequently  there 
was  plenty  of  fish. 

After  luncheon  Belville  went  to  work  to  cut  spruce 
boughs  for  bedding,  while  the  ladies  went  to  the  brook  to 
fish,  and  Norton  lay  down  to  rest  after  his  tedious  ride. 

Laura  took  her  seat  upon  a  great  boulder  by  the  seeth- 
ing pool  and  dropped  in  her  line.  In  a  moment  it  was 
carried  with  a  jerk  to  the  bottom  and  a  weight  like  ten 
pounds  of  iron  held  it  there.  She  pulled  hard  and 
steadily,  and  the  shining  struggler  came  to  the  surface. 
Still  harder,  and  he  is  in  the  air,  dancing  with  all  sorts  of 


16G      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

strange  antics,  and  as  the  pole  is  swung,  in  over  the 
shore  he  hops  up  and  down  like  a  pea  on  a  hot  griddle. 
With  a  chuckle  of  exultation,  the  fair  fisher  maiden 
reached  out  to  take  the  fish  with  loose  and  careless 
hand ;  and  then  an  interesting  shriek  rang  up  the  dark 
pine-clad  walls  above,  while  pole,  line,  and  fish  fell  upon 
the  sand  among  the  boulders,  the  fish  dancing  the  line 
into  a  tangle. 

The  fish  was  still  waltzing  on  its  tail  when  Belville, 
nearly  breaking  his  bones  over  the  boulders,  arrived  on 
the  spot,  while  Norton,  roused  from  his  rest,  came  pant- 
ing and  pale,  scrambling  along  in  the  rear  with  the  gun. 
Laura  was  examining  with  great  solicitude  a  mark  in  her 
hand  such  as  might  have  been  made  with  a  pin  in  the 
hands  of  a  six-months-old  baby. 

"The  dreadful  thing  stung  me!"  she  exclaimed,  as 
Belville  began  to  laugh. 

"  Too  bad,  I  declare !  I  left  my  instruments  in  the 
wagon.  It  may  not  prove  fatal,  though.  Will  you 
please  allow  me  to  look  at  it?" 

She  held  out  her  hand  with  such  a  smile  as  one  makes 
when  conscious  of  doing  something  silly. 

"  Deep  as  the  legal  knowledge  of  a  justice  of  the 
peace!"  said  Norton,  as  he  examined  the  scar  with  an 
affectation  of  seriousness. 

"  An  unfortunate  simile,"  said  Belville,  "  for  sucli 
knowledge  is  generally  fatal — to  the  party  who  ought 
to  win." 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  be  necessary  to  resort  to  ampu- 
tation, Doctor  ?"  asked  Norton. 

"I  can't  answer  for  the  consequences  unless  I  do."  • 


IN   THE  HEART  OF  CUCAMUNGA.  1C? 

"  I  never  can  take  off  another  of  the  horrid  things," 
said  Laura,  provoked  at  their  pleasantry. 

"Then  I'll  stay  and  assist  you,"  said  Belville;  and 
Norton  went  back  to  lie  down  again. 

The  fish  were  as  greedy  as  a  public  administrator,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  there  was  another  vigorous  bite. 
The  line  swirled  around  in  the  water  for  a  second,  and 
then  a  three-inch  fingerling  hit  Belville  in  one  eye,  as  he 
was  peering  over  a  boulder  by  Laura's  side. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  didn't  mean  to  do  that,"  said 
she. 

"  Too  bad  to  lose  him !  That  was  a  ten-pounder  at 
least,  judging  by  the  feeling  of  my  eye.  Let  me  know 
when  you  are  ready  to  sling  another.  I  don't  object  to 
catching  fish  in  that  way  to  please  you  ;  but  it's  some- 
times convenient  to  have  notice,"  said  Belville,  with  a 
laugh,  as  he  baited  her  hook  for  her. 

She  tossed  in  again  and  in  a  moment  felt  a  quick 
twitch  ;  one  or  two  more  twitches  were  followed  by  a 
tug,  and  shortly  a  beauty,  almost  white  below  and  light 
green  on  the  back,  came  lashing  and  thrashing  up 
through  the  shade. 

"  Now  take  a  short  hold  of  the  line — so — and  catch 
the  fish  tightly — so — with  the  other  hand.  Their  spines 
are  not  strong  enough  to  hurt  you  if  you  grasp  them 
firmly." 

"  That  is  the  proper  way  to  grasp  any  difficulty,  I  sup- 
pose," said  she,  as  with  velvety  touch  she  proceeded  to 
loosen  the  fish  from  the  hook. 

"  I  think  the  best  way  to  avoid  a  difficulty  is  to  dodge 
it,"  said  Belville.  "That's  what  that  fish  evidently 


168      RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

thinks,"  he  added  as  it  flopped  from  her  loose  grasp  and 
landed  among  the  stones  at  her  feet. 

"  Well,  we  have  a  new  difficulty  to  practice  on,"  said 
she  in  a  low  voice,  looking  around  to  see  that  no  one 
was  near. 

"  Eh?     What  is  it?"  said  Belville  in  some  alarm. 

"Charley  wants  me  to  marry  him  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble." 

"  Saints  defend  us  !  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  said 
he,  with  much  trepidation.  "  It  will  be  apt  to  precipi- 
tate a  crisis." 

"  He  says  he's  sure  he  cannot  live  long,  and  begs  me 
to  make  him  happy  as  his  wife  during  the  brief  time  he 
has  before  him.  What  is  the  best  thing  to  do  ?" 

"  The  best  thing  to  do !  Why,  of  course  you  don't 
contemplate  doing  that?"  said  Belville  in  amazement. 

"  I  would  do  anything  in  the  world  to  make  Charley 
happy.  But  marriage  is  not  a  thing  to  be  entered  into 
through  pity ;  nor  at  all,  unless  one  loves  the  man  bet- 
ter than  any  other.  And  I  do  not  see  that  the  situation 
is  changed  by  the  danger  of  his  dying — except  that  it  is 
worse." 

"And  suppose  he  should  not  die?"  asked  Belville 
after  a  thoughtful  pause. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  him  die  for  the  world." 

"  Of  course  not.  Neither  would  I.  But  he  speaks 
only  too  truly  when  he  says  he  is  dying.  So  you  must 
act  upon  that  assumption,  although  it  is  a  sad  and  un- 
pleasant one." 

"  Perhaps  I  can —  " 

"  Sh — sh  !    Here  he  comes,"  interrupted  Belville.    And 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  CUCAMUNGA.  169 

sure  enough,  in  a  moment  more  Norton  appeared  with 
his  pole  and  line. 

"  I  felt  too  badly  to  sleep,  and  thought  I  would  try  a 
little  fishing,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh  and  a  deep  sepulchral 
cough.  He  seemed  very  much  out  of  breath,  and  took 
a  seat  on  one  boulder,  leaning  against  another  to  rest 
before  he  cast  in  his  line. 

"I'll  go  back  and  finish  cutting  some  bedding,  and 
then  I'll  join  you  and  catch  some  fish  too,"  said  Belville, 
starting  back  toward  the  camp. 

A  smile  lit  up  the  pale  features  of  Norton  as  his  line 
was  carried  with  a  rush  under  a  boulder ;  he  drew  it  out 
with  a  gleam  of  silver  and  green  wriggling  at  the  end ; 
and  as  he  took  off  his  catch  and  put  it  into  his  basket  a 
faint  glow  suffused  his  face  and  he  seemed  perceptibly 
refreshed. 

"  If  I  had  only  had  more  of  such  life  as  this,  what  a 
difference  it  might  have  made!"  he  said,  sighing.  Then 
he  looked  about  him  and  exclaimed  : 

"  What  could  be  grander  than  these  great  hills,  what 
softer  and  purer  than  this  high,  dry  air,  what  sweeter 
than  this  icy  water,  what  more  comforting  than  these 
deep  shades?  I  only  wish  I  could  live  to  enjoy  it!" 

"  Oh,  you  will.  I  know  you  will,"  said  Laura,  looking 
encouragingly  at  him. 

"Bury  that  hope,  Laura!" 

"  I  cannot.  I  cannot  think  of  your  dying.  It's  too 
dreadful — too  dreadful!" 

"  Laura,  I  once  risked  my  life  for  you,  and  you  promised 
me  then  that  when  the  test  came  you  would  show  that 
you  could  do  anything  for  me.  I  am  dying  now  as  much 


170      RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

for  your  love  as  for  anything.  It  is  a  dreadful  thing,  I 
know,  to  ask  one  to  marry  a  dying  man,  but  if  anything 
will  save  me — " 

"  Oh  come,  Charley,  you  must  not  talk  so." 

'  Yes,  I  am  sinking — every  week — almost  by  the  day. 
If  you  were  in  my  place  and  could  feel  the  change  that 
is  creeping  over  me — " 

"  But  Charley—" 

"  Please  don't  deny  me  the  last  favor  I  shall  ever  ask 
you—" 

"You  must  give  me  time,  Charley.  I  shall  have  to 
think  it  over  a  little,"  she  said  at  length  in  a  hesitating 
tone. 

"  And  meanwhile  my  brief  days  are  passing.  Time  is 
too  precious  to  wait.  Let  me  have  your  promise  to  be 
my  wife  when  we  return  to  San  Bernardino." 

"  It  will  be  time  enough  then  to  say." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  can  wait  till  then.  We  shall  be 
there  in  a  few  days,"  he  replied,  casting  in  his  line 
again. 

"Isn't  this  delightful  fishing?"  she  said  as  an  eight- 
inch  wiggler  illumined  the  dark  shade  with  his  flashing 
sides,  and  came  twisting  out  of  the  water. 

"  Yes  indeed !  It's  not  so  wild  and  exciting  as  hunt- 
ing, but  softer  and  more  tranquillizing.  What  a  pity  that 
such  a  place  cannot  be  within  reach  of  every  overworked 
mortal,"  said  Norton,  as  he  pulled  another  fish  out  of  the 
same  hole. 

And  who  that  knows  the  influence  of  such  recreation 
on  both  mind  and  body  does  not  echo  Norton's  opinion  ? 
You,  my  scientific  friends,  who  go  forth  with  cunning 


IN   THE  HEART  OF  CUCAMUNGA.  171 

tackle  and  gaudy  flies  to  catch  the  wild  and  wary  old 
warriors  that  still  linger  in  the  Eastern  brooks,  you  who 
love  the  skillful  arm,  the  rocket-like  rush  and  strike,  the 
struggle  and  the  capture,  despise  not  the  simplicity  of 
these  little  silvery  cousins  of  Salmo  Fontinalis.  Gladly 
would  I  tell  of  wilder  and  larger  fish,  of  deeper  and 
wider  pools,  of  vain  casts  and  fruitless  experiments  with 
flies,  of  scientific  drowning  of  fish  that  could  not  be 
pulled  directly  out,  of  broken  lines  and  sulking  five- 
pounders,  if  the  facts  would  only  bear  me  out.  But  my 
duty  is  to  be  true  to  nature,  whether  the  picture  be 
fine  or  not.  Whether  or  not  it  be  the  proper  thing  to  un- 
derrate and  depreciate  our  own  game  is  not  the  question 
with  me.  Northern  California  I  hope  can  show  larger 
and  gamier  fish  than  these,  but  Southern  California  can 
show  nothing  like  the  carmine-spotted  prince  of  Eastern 
fish. 

Yet,  I  must  repeat,  these  are  by  no  means  to  be  de- 
spised. Their  home  is  in  nature's  grandest  houses,  their 
reception-rooms  furnished  in  a  style  no  art  can  imitate, 
and  on  the  walls  hang  pictures  that  confound  the  cun- 
ningest  pencil.  Lie  for  a  few  moments  on  the  luxurious 
sofas  of  snowy  rock  fanned  by  the  gentle  air  through  the 
green  alders,  with  the  fragrance  of  the  water  stealing  over 
your  senses  like  a  breeze  over  the  flower-banks  of  Elysium, 
lulling  you  to  repose,  and  see  what  feelings  come  over  you. 
How  fancy  skips  back  over  the  milestones  of  the  past  and 
pauses  at  each  stopping-place  in  your  piscatorial  life ! 
Quickly  before  you  come  up  the  boyhood  days  when 
with  up-rolled  pants  you  waded  the  old  country  brook 
with  "  gig  "  in  one  hand  and  torch  in  the  other,  and  the 


RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

crunch  of  the  iron  teeth  into  a  sucker  scrambling  over  a 
ripple  thrilled  your  soul  with  electric  fire.  You  recall 
the  smell  of  the  sawdusted  water  below  the  old  mill,  and 
seem  to  see  again  the  foam  that  runs  away  from  the  dark 
dripping  wheel,  the  great  pool  below  the  dam  where  you 
used  to  gig  the  fish  among  the  big  stones  when  the  open- 
ing of  the  gates  stopped  the  sheet  over  the  dam  and  left 
the  surface  of  the  water  still.  And  there,  too,  is  the  old 
bridge  in  whose  shades  the  sunfish  used  to  lie,  while 
stretched  upon  the  boards  above,  and  peering  over  the 
edge,  you  floated  the  bait  toward  him  ;  and,  on  either 
side,  the  line  of  deep  holes  by  the  old  stumps  of  over- 
hanging trees  where  the  cork  disappeared  ere  the  sinker 
reached  the  bottom,  and  the  greedy  chub  or  golden  sun- 
fish  came  flickering  out.  Can  you  forget  those  soft,  warm 
nights  when  the  "  bob"  jiggled  on  the  bottom  and  the 
writhing  eels,  their  teeth  fastened  in  the  linen  thread, 
came  squirming  out  and  fell  with  a  dull  flop  into  the 
scow  ?  Or  how,  in  later  days,  the  light  skiff  glided  over 
the  smooth  face  of  some  little  lake,  while  a  fair  friend 
sat  in  the  bow,  the  soft  music  of  her  words  blending  in 
your  boyish  ear  with  the  stroke  of  your  oars,  and  the 
glittering  bait  spinning  just  below  the  surface  in  the  wake 
of  the  boat  lured  the  ravenous  pickerel  from  his  shady 
lair  ?  Swiftly  memory  calls  back  the  time  when  the  first 
bite  of  the  speckled  trout  thrilled  you  and  the  bright  days 
spent  by  the  wild-rushing  streams  in  the  deep  old  woods 
or  the  dark  mountain  glen,  with  comrades  whose  mirth 
outblazed  the  camp-fire  at  night  and  outsung  the  winds 
by  day.  And  when  your  soul  is  borne  away  on  the 
flood  of  such  recollections  as  these  it  tarries  not  to  in- 


IN   THE  HEART  OF  CUCAMUNGA.'  173 

spect  with   too  critical  eye  the   swelling  springs  from 
which  it  flows. 

NOTE. — In  the  lower  parts  of  these  San  Bernardino  County 
streams  are  still  a  few  trout  of  considerable  size,  but  very  scarce. 
Some  are  said  to  weigh  five  pounds  ;  but  this  is  probably  fisher- 
man's weight.  In  the  only  parts  where  trout  are  plenty  enough 
for  pleasure  even  half-pound  fish  are  rare  ;  and  I  have  never  seen 
one  that  would  weigh  a  pound.  Of  course  the  large  ones  would 
fight  pretty  well,  but  I  don't  believe  any  of  them  are  as  gamey  as 
the  Eastern  trout. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

TROUT    AND    TROUBLE. 

"  Oh,  what  a  tangled  web  we  weave 
When  first  we  practice  to  deceive." 

SOON  after  daylight  the  next  morning,  Belville  and  | 
Laura  went  to  the  brook  to  get  the  morning  fishing, 
which  is  always  the  best  here.     Eveline  staid  at  camp  1 
to  cook  breakfast,  and  Norton  was  still  king  of  the  realm 
of  dreams. 

The  fish  were  as  ravenous  as  parishioners  at  a  donation  j 
party  where  the  parson's  "spread"  outvalues  the  do-  j 
nations,  as  they  jumped,  flashed,  and  darted  at  the  bait,  j 
Laura  had  learned  at  last  how  to  pull  them  out  and  take 
them  off,  and  many  a  glimmering  beauty  found  its  way 
to   her  basket.     Belville,   throwing  back   all    but    the  j 
largest,  soon  had  what  even   the  great  American  trout- 
porcus  would  call  "  a  nice  mess."     So  he  soon  wound 
up  his  line,  and  having  caught  enough  for  the  day,  went  i 
up  to  the  pool  where  Laura  was  and  leaned  over  a  boul- 
der beside  her. 

"  Any  new  developments  in  matrimonial  prospects?" 
he  asked. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  am  to  do,"  she  answered.  "He's 
so  very  urgent  and  seems  to  desire  it  so  much.  He  is 
certainly  failing,  and  I  am  afraid  this  distress  of  mind 
is  making  him  worse." 

"There  is  no  mistake  about  his  failing." 


TROUT  AND    TROUBLE.  175 

"  Perhaps  then —     Oh,  heavens  !  isn't  it  horrible  !" 

"What?" 

"  To  even  think  of — doing  such  a  thing — with  such  an 
expectation." 

"  But  you  surely  don't  intend — " 

"What  can  I  do?  He's  actually  suffering  about  it. 
And  his  state  of  mind  is  pulling  him  down  faster  than 
disease.  Oh !  Heaven  forgive  my  deception !  Why 
didn't  I  tell  him  the  truth  when  he  first  spoke  of  it  ?" 

Her  pole  lay  idle  in  the  water,  and  a  trout,  after 
breakfasting  on  the  hook  beneath  a  boulder,  was  trying 
to  work  off  indigestion  by  tearing  around  the  bottom  of 
the  pool.  The  crags  far  above,  lit  up  by  the  sun's  rays 
softened  by  passing  through  thin  clouds,  shone  like 
silver  castles.  Down  the  valley  the  cloud-cascade  was 
rolling  over  in  great  fleecy  billows  with  edges  of  gold 
and  backs  of  pearl,  with  green  islands  of  pine  or  spruce 
behind.  Below,  the  manzanita  spread  its  red  arms  and 
bright  green  leaves  in  the  morning  sun,  and  the  lilac, 
still  in  bloom  on  the  northern  slopes,  tinted  the  dark 
chaparral  with  its  soft  purple.  Here  and  there  were 
bushes  hung  full  with  golden  bells,  creepers  with  trum- 
pets of  scarlet  and  blue,  vines  festooned  with  orange 
and  pink.  The  shades  seemed  deeper  and  more  solemn, 
the  boulders  larger  and  whiter  than  ever.  Yet  Laura 
saw  nothing  of  it  all. 

Belville  sat  staring  at  her  and  said  not  a  word. 

"  I'll  do  as  you  say,"  she  said  at  length. 

"No.  Do  as  you  think  best.  I  cannot  advise  you. 
Nothing  will  alter  my  affection,  however  you  decide.  I 
look  upon  it  only  as  a  delay,  anyhow." 


176      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"Don't  speak  of  such  dreadful  things,"  said  she, 
quickly. 

"  But  how  are  we  to  help  it  ?  There  are  times  when 
we  must  reason  coldly  upon  things  against  which  the 
feelings  rebel,  and  it  seems  to  me  this  is  one  of  those 
occasions,"  said  Belville. 

"  I  no  longer  know  what  is  right  and  what  is  not. 
Why  did  I  not  tell  him  at  first!"  she  repeated,  in  dis- 
tress. 

"  Then  why  not  tell  him  now  ?" 

"  I  can't — I  can't.  He  is  suffering  too  much,  poor  fel- 
low, and  I  can't  bear  to  have  him  suffer.  I  love  him  yet, 
and  if  I  had  never  met  you — " 

"  He  certainly  is  worthy  of  any  woman's  love,  and  I 
don't  wonder  you  wish  to  smooth  his  pathway  to  the 
grave,  whither  he  is  so  surely  going.  You  are  the  best 
judge  of  what  to  do." 

"  I  hardly  see  any  way  but  to  do  as  he  wishes.  But 
then  comes  in  another  dreadful  feature  of  it  all — to  be 
the  wife  of  one  while  my  heart  belongs  to  another. 

'  Oh,  what  a  tangled  web  we  weave  . 

When  first  we  practice  to  deceive.' 

May  God  forgive  me  ;  I  do  it  only  for  his  good." 

A  cheery  call  to  breakfast  rang  from  the  rocky  wall 

behind  them. 

"Well,  I'll  leave  my  fate  where  it  has  always  been — in 

your  hands,"  said  Belville  with  a  sigh. 

"It's  safe  enough,  but  I  hate  the  idea  most  mightily," 

said    Belville    to    himself.      "  I'd   stake   my    reputation 

on  her  being  a  widow  in  three  months  at  the  farthest. 


TROUT  AND    TROUBLE.  177 

Otherwise,  I  should  object  most  decidedly.  The  plaguy 
arrangement  will  cheat  me  out  of  her  company,  too,  for 
most  of  that  time.  But  objecting  is  an  extremely  deli- 
cate matter.  However,  mortality  will  soon  eliminate 
him  from  the  problem,  and  until  then  I  suppose  I'll  have 
to  consider  it  irreducible." 

Breakfast  passed  quietly  away,  neither  Belville  nor 
Laura  talking  any  more  than  was  necessary.  After 
breakfast  Belville  went  to  look  after  the  horses,  and  then 
returned  to  the  brook  and  stretched  out  for  a  nap  on  a 
huge  boulder;  for  at  this  altitude  and  in  this  air  one 
can  sleep  at  any  time.  Eveline  took  her  line  and  went 
up  the  brook,  leaving  Laura  and  Norton  alone  at  camp. 

What  wonder  that  so  many  parties  of  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, the  most  refined  in  the  land,  go  out  to  camp  in 
Californiaj  though  they  know  nothing  of  the  pleasures  of 
either  hunting  or  fishing?  What  wonder  that  they  thread 
the  passes  of  the  high  mountains  and  spend  days  and 
weeks  among  the  rugged  hills  or  in  the  deep  canons  ? 
For  where  has  nature  made  another  such  country  for 
camping  with  so  little  work,  so  little  discomfort,  and  so 
much  to  see ;  and  where  earth,  air,  and  sky  all  combine 
to  produce  such  a  delightful  indifference  to  the  flight  of 
time?  Where  is  the  land  where  one  can  dream  time 
away  with  a  sweeter  abandon  than  here  ?  To  lie  down 
in  the  cool  night  air  with  no  tent  but  the  starry  blue  or 
the  glistening  moonlit  leaves  of  some  royal  oak,  with 
no  fear  of  rain  or  dew,  unsung  to  rest  by  the  tuneful 
Thomas  or  the  festive  mosquito,  with  no  fear  of  the 
tarantulas,  scorpions,  rattlesnakes,  and  other  horrors 
which  the  Californian  rarely  knows  except  in  corre- 


178      RIFLE,   ROD   AND   GUN  ID    CALIFORNIA, 

spondence  of  Eastern  papers  written  by  the  perfunctory 
hand  of  some  quill-hack  who  has  spent  a  few  hours  in' 
Woodward's  garden ;  to  rise  in  the  morning  with  the 
certainty  of  a  bright  day,  finding  the  hare  perhaps  play- 
ing around  you,  the  quail  calling  on  every  hand,  the 
mountain  ringdove  drifting  past,  the  squirrel's  bushy  tail 
whisking  through  the  bushes,  or  the  dove  cooing  in  the 
trees  by  the  spring — this,  this  is  camping !  The  moun- 
tains are  of  course  the  best  in  summer,  but  even  in  the 
foot-hills  and  lowlands  there  is  attraction  enough  to  call 
out  thousands  every  year  for  camping  alone  as  well  as 
for  hunting  and  fishing. 

Though  there  was  little  or  no  game  where  our  friends 
now  were,  it  was  with  no  little  regret  that  they  packed 
up  that  afternoon  and  threaded  their  way  back  to  where 
they  had  left  the  wagon,  and  got  ready  to  start  on  the 
morrow  for  San  Diego's  lower  hills  and  drier  valleys,  but 
no  less  healthful  air. 

"  It's  decided,"  Laura  whispered  to  Belville,  as  he 
helped  her  off  her  horse,  when  they  reached  the  wagon 
at  Mrs.  Glenn's.  "It  will  be  at  San  Bernardino." 


- 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

JUNE    SHOOTING. 

WHERE  can  one  shoot  in  June  without  violating 
at  least  the  law  of  propriety  ?  you  naturally  ask. 
Even  here.  Perhaps  no  part  of  the  country  can  show 
such  a  continuous  round  of  shooting  as  this,  there  being 
no  month  when  some  kind  of  game  is  not  in  its  prime 
here.  May,  June,  and  July  are  here  the  palmy  days  of 
the  hares  and  rabbits.  The  young  are  full  grown,  and 
both  old  and  young  are  fat,  sleek,  and  lively.  The  rab- 
bits of  this  country  need  no  frost  to  put  them  in  good 
condition,  and  the  parasite  of  the  Eastern  bunny  is 
rarely  or  never  found  among  them. 

But  why  sneer  at  the  idea  of  shooting  rabbits  at  any 
time  ?  You  may  indeed  have  outgrown  rabbit-shooting 
and  concentrated  your  love  upon  nobler  game.  But  can 
you  forget  the  time  when  the  flicker  of  a  woolly  tail  through 
the  frosted  weeds  of  the  old  meadow,  or  the  rustle  of 
scampering  feet  over  the  dead  leaves  of  the  woods,  swept 
like  a  thunder-storm  through  your  boyish  heart?  Do 
you  forget  when  it  snowed  in  the  evening  and  you  rolled 
sleepless  through  the  long,  long  night,  waiting  for  the 
first  scouts  of  dawn  to  appear?  How  you  outstripped 
the  daylight  in  getting  up  and  out  upon  the  snow !  How 
the  first  glimpse  of  that  four-dotted  track  thrilled  your 
soul  with  a  strange  fire !  How  you  followed  it  with 


180      RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN   IN  CALIFORNIA. 

tingling  fingers  and  trembling  knees  along  some  bank, 
across  the  brook,  and  up  the  meadow  fence ;  how  the 
shivers  danced  along  your  back  when  it  led  into  some 
brush  and  you  circled  the  patch  to  see  if  it  had  gone 
out;  how  you  followed  it  to  the  old  rail-heap  back  of 
some  one's  barn,  and  felt  a  shower-bath  of  chills  as, 
stooping  down  and  looking  in  at  one  end  of  the  heap, 
you  saw  a  dark,  fuzzy  object  through  the  opening !  Can 
you\ver  forget  how  with  trembling  hand  you  cautiously 
pulled  down  the  rails  until  at  last  the  sheen  of  that  little 
black  eye  beamed  on  your  soul  like  a  meteor?  Can  you 
forget  how  you  carried  that  rabbit  home  by  the  legs, 
although  you  had  a  game-bag  with  you ;  how  you  hung 
him  up  and  for  a  week  went  a  dozen  times  a  day  to  look 
at  him,  standing  at  all  point  of  the  compass  so  as  to  take 
in  all  his  various  splendors ;  how  you  thought  over  him 
at  night  and  bored  your  father,  uncle,  and  cousin  about 
him  by  day;  how  at  last  he  was  served  before  you  at 
table  in  becoming  state,  and  with  a  thrill  of  pride  you 
helped  your  mother  to  a  piece;  and  how  in  spite  of  its 
rank  taste  you  persuaded  yourself  that  the  dish  was 
superb  ?  Talk  not  of  the  first  deer,  the  first  bear.  The 
glory  of  the  first  anything  pales  before  the  memory  of  the 
boy's  first  rabbit. 

And  what  but  a  boy  is  the  oldest  sportsman  when  in 
the  field — what  but  a  boy  slightly  modified?  And  is  it 
not  the  very  life  and  soul  of  the  field's  attractions,  that 
it  does  thus  make  us  boys  again  ?  However  this  may 
be,  I  defy  one  in  whom  any  love  for  the  field  has  ever 
been  fully  awakened,  and  who  values  hunting  not  for 
the  game  but  for  the  skill  required  to  get  it  and  the 


JUNE   SHOOTING.  181 

associations  connected  with  it,  to  stroll  with  rifle,  pistol, 
or  bow  at  evening  or  early  morning  along  the  edge  of 
the  plains  where  rabbits  and  hares  are  plenty,  where  the 
walking  is  as  dry  as  in  your  parlor,  where  he  does  not 
have  to  tear  and  swear  his  way  through  briers,,  brush, 
or  long  grass,  where  he  is  neither  baked  with  heat  nor 
benumbed  with  cold,  and  say  that  it  is  not  first-class, 
scientific  shooting  and  exciting  sport.  And  even  if  a 
shot-gun  be  used,  such  a  one  will  quickly  admit  a 
total  eclipse  of  Eastern  May  or  June  shooting — which 
really  amounts  to  nothing. 

Our  party  had  camped  at  the  Vallecito,  between 
Temecula  and  Fall  Brook,  on  their  return  to  San  Diego 
County,  and,  about  an  hour  before  sundown,  started 
out  from  camp,  Laura  with  bow  and  arrows,  Norton  and 
his  sister  with  shot-guns,  and  Belville  with  his  rifle. 

A  few  traces  of  the  tristful  visage  which  Belville  had 
worn  at  San  Bernardino,  while  playing  the  part  of  im- 
promptu groomsman  at  the  wedding,  still  lingered  under 
the  mask  of  good-humor  he  had  worn  ever  since  ;  while 
Norton's  face  was  bathed  in  a  perpetual  smile  and 
beamed  with  joy ;  and  he  evidently  had  not  failed 
enough  in  the  last  two  days  to  prevent  the  short  walk 
that  is  necessary  to  have  good  sport  with  rabbits  in  this 
locality,  in  places  where  they  are  plenty. 

"  Now,  remember,"  said  Belville,  "  that  the  larder  is 
not  suffering,  and  that  we  are  out  only  for  amusement. 
So  don't  shoot  at  anything  unless  it  is  running ;  with 
the  exception  of  Miss  Lau — excuse  me,  Mrs.  Norton, 
—who  of  course  will  take  sitting  shots  with  the  bow. 
And  there  is  a  chance  for  her  already  !" 


182      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

He  pointed  as  he  spoke  to  a  ball  of  brown  fur  between 
two  low  bushes  of  chemisal  on  the  edge  of  the  open 
ground,  and  some  sixty  yards  away. 

Laura  walked  to  within  twenty  yards  of  the  spot,  and 
a  head  and  a  pair  of  ears  suddenly  appeared  above  the 
rest  of  the  object,  with  black  sparkling  eyes  turned 
inquiringly  at  her. 

Tang!  went  the  bowstring,  and  with  a  faint  chiff ! 
the  arrow  sheathed  itself  in  the  carpet  of  dry  alfileria 
upon  which  the  rabbit  was  sitting,  a  little  on  one  side. 
She  placed  another  arrow  on  the  string,  and  as  it  hissed 
just  over  the  rabbit's  head,  touching  an  ear  as  it  passed, 
the  ball  of  fur  in  a  twinkling  became  instinct  with  life 
and  took  on  an  undulatory  motion  as  it  disappeared  with 
a  zigzag  flash  of  white  bobbing  in  its  immediate  rear.  A 
ball  from  Belville's  rifle  tore  up  the  dry  dirt  just  behind 
as  the  rabbit  passed  an  opening  in  the  bushes,  and  Nor- 
ton's gun  sowed  the  seed  of  a  black  sage-bush  about  two 
feet  above  where  Belville's  bullet  had  struck. 

"  Well,  there's  another  for  you,"  said  Norton,  shortly, 
pointing  to  a  little  knoll  about  seventy  yards  away. 
As  they  went  toward  it  a  young  hare  darted  out  from 
behind  a  projecting  tongue  of  chemisal^  and,  like  a  cir- 
cus performer  running  into  the  ring  with  a  half  skip 
and  jump,  he  hopped  proudly  and  inquisitively  out 
into  the  open,  stopped  not  far  off,  reared  up  on  his 
hind  legs,  and  with  long  ears  perpendicular,  fore  legs 
hanging  at  rest  and  hind  legs  ready  for  business,  sur- 
veyed the  party  with  his  little  black  eyes  flashing  in 
the  sun!  Meanwhile,  preparations  for  his  annihilation 
were  in  progress. 


JUNE   SHOOTING.  183 

"  Let  the  bow  have  first  shot ;  then  we'll  try  him  if 
he  runs,"  said  Belville. 

With  trembling  hand  Laura  loosed  an  arrow  from 
the  string,  but  forgot  about  giving  .enough  elevation. 
The  shaft  struck  about  three  feet  short,  snaked  its  way 
through  the  light,  dry  grass,  and  glided  out  just  in 
front  of  the  living  target.  Quick  as  a  bat  he  wheeled 
and  dashed  off  in  a  twinkling,  making  for  the  brush 
some  eighty  yards  away. 

"  Can't  I  hold  far  enough  ahead  of  him  ?"  exclaimed 
Belville,  as  the  first  bullet  made  the  dirt  fly  behind 
him.  He  held  about  six  feet  ahead,  and  the  next  ball 
sent  up  a  shower  of  dirt  just  in  front  of  the  scudding 
hare.  Almost  like  the  rebound  of  a  sunbeam  was  the 
reversal  of  that  swift  engine,  and  back  it  went  the 
other  way  with  the  shot-guns  belching  harmless  thun- 
der behind.  Another  ball  from  the  fast-repeating 
Winchester  struck  just  below  the  rabbit  as  it  rose  in 
its  rapid  course,  and  like  a  flash  it  shot  away  at  an- 
other angle,  with  another  ball  hissing  just  over  it. 
And  now  it  was  running  on  a  quartering  course,  when 
the  rifle,  aimed  some  three  feet  ahead,  cracked  again, 
and  a  rolling  somersault  of  yellow  and  brown  took 
the  place  of  the  swift-darting  hare,  even  before  the 
thud  of  the  ball  came  back  to  the  ear. 

Rabbits  were  as  thick  as  friends  in  prosperity,  and 
before  the  hunters  got  through  the  point  of  brush  out 
of  which  this  last  hare  had  run,  they  started  three 
more,  one  of  which  stopped  just  in  time  to  catch  a  load 
of  shot  from  Eveline's  gun  that  would  otherwise  have 
gone  behind  him. 


184      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"  Is  that  what  you  call  shooting  on  the  run  ?"  said 
Belville. 

"Yes  ;  I  shot  on  the  run  and  hit  it  on  the  stop,"  she 
replied. 

"I  presume  stoppers  are  jour  forte.  But  you  did 
very  well.  Now,  Mrs.  Norton,  your  rabbit  still  stands 
on  yonder  knoll,  idly  waiting,  and  looks  as  if  he  needed 
the  stimulus  of  a  shaft  in  his  ribs  to  put  him  in  proper 
running  order  for  the  guns." 

She  walked  up  nearer  to  the  rabbit  and  sent  an  ar- 
row whisking  just  over  its  back  into  the  weeds  and 
grass  beyond.  It  jumped,  turned  around,  shook  its 
head  and  pricked  up  its  ears  for  some  more  music. 
Twang  !  went  the  string  again,  and  with  a  dull  chug  the 
arrow  anchored  in  its  ribs. 

"  Beautifully  done  !"  exclaimed  Belville.  "  Isn't  that 
far  better  than  shooting  it  with  a  shot-gun  ?" 

"I  always  told  you  the  bow  was  the  "best,"  she  re- 
sponded. 

"  And  I  always  admitted  that  it  was  for  rabbits  ; 
especially  in  this  country,  where  it  is  so  easy  to  get 
sitting  shots.  These  rabbits,  too,  unlike  the  East- 
ern hares,  are  worth  something  when  killed.  They 
are,  as  you  already  know,  vastly  ahead  of  the  Eastern 
rabbit  in  flavor,  and  are  quicker  and  more  gamey  in 
action.  To  get  sitting  shots  at  the  Eastern  rabbit  at 
ten  or  twelve  feet  is  very  easy  for  one  who  knows 
whereto  look  and  has  a  sharp  eye  to  see  them  in  their 
forms.  But  these  fellows  you  can  seldom  see  in  their 
forms,  and  when  feeding  or  playing  in  the  open  it  is 
hard  to  get  a  closer  shot  than  fifteen  or  twenty  yards 


JUNE  SHOOTING.  185 

unless  they  are  running;  and  often  you  cannot  get 
closer  than  thirty  yards." 

Some  two  hundred  yards  away  from  where  they 
stood  a  pair  of  long  ears  now  came  into  view,  just 
over  the  edge  of  some  chemisal. 

"  There's  a  chap  we  must  keep  out  of  sight  of,  and 
get  behind  so  as  to  make  him  run  on  the  open,"  said 
Belville.  "Let's  slip  down  this  old  road  here  and  get 
behind  that  strip  of  brush  and  be  as  quiet  as  possible, 
keeping  our  heads  down  until  we  get  close  to  him." 

A  few  minutes  brought  them  to  about  thirty  yards 
in  the  rear  of  the  animal. 

"  Now  enliven  him  a  little,"  said  Belville  to  Mrs. 
Norton. 

Twang  !  went  the  string,  and  chiff 7  went  the  shaft 
through  the  edge  of  the  chemisal,  close  beside  the 
hare.  He  stood  not  upon  the  order  of  his  going,  but 
started  across  the  open  with  the  speed  of  a  rocket, 
and  his  pace  was  soon  materially  accelerated  by  a 
shower  of  dirt  thrown  up  by  a  Winchester  bullet, 
which  fell  a  little  short  and  bounded  over  him,  and  by 
a  stray  grain  of  fine  shot  from  Norton's  gun,  which 
acted  as  a  very  efficient  stimulus  to  his  muscular  sys- 
tem. Another  bullet  sang  through  the  tip  of  his  long 
ear,  causing  him  to  whirl  partly  about  and  hop  along 
half  dazed  for  a  few  yards,  flopping  his  long  ears  and 
looking  very  foolish.  But  he  immediately  started  out 
again,  quietly,  on  tiptoe.  Another  bullet  clipped  a  lit- 
tle unnecessary  fur  from  under  his  belly  as  he  rose 
in  a  spring,  and  in  a  twinkling  he  let  out  another 
length  of  his  long  body  and  darted  away  at  right  an- 


186      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

gles  to  his  former  course,  with  two  more  bullets  whiz- 
zing vainly  behind  and  above  him. 

Meanwhile  another  hare,  standing  erect  on  the  open 
ground  some  two  hundred  yards  away,  had  been 
calmly  "taking  in  the  show." 

"Let  me  try  that  fellow  as  he  stands,"  said  Norton, 
who  first  caught  sight  of  him.  Belville  threw  up  the 
globe-sight  and  adjusted  the  peep-sight  of  his  rifle  to 
two  hundred  yards. 

"  Get  the  little  ball  square  on  the  center,"  said  Bel- 
ville, as  he  handed  the  rifle  to  Norton.  "  You  had 
better  stoop  down  and  rest  it  on  your  knee." 

Norton  did  so,  and  at  the  report  a  puff  of  dust  flew 
from  the  dry  ground,  fifty  yards  beyond  the  hare.  Mr. 
Hare  took  down  his  ears  and  gathered  up  his  hind  legs 
with  exemplary  expedition  ;  but  before  he  had  run 
fifty  yards  his  curiosity  overcame  him,  he  suddenly 
stopped,  took  a  look  from  a  sitting  position,  and  then 
raised  himself  on  his  hind  legs,  with  his  ears  pointed 
towards  the  zenith. 

Bang !  went  the  rifle.  The  dust  flew  at  that  side  of 
the  hare  that  was  towards  the  rifle  ;  he  jumped  three 
feet  heavenwards,  and,  turning  in  the  air,  landed  on 
his  back,  struck  in  the  neck  by  the  glancing  ball. 

"A  splendid  shot,  that!"  said  Belville,  who  would 
not  spoil  Norton's  pleasure  by  telling  him  that  the 
ball  had  first  struck  the  ground — a  fact  which  the 
smoke  had  kept  Norton  from  noticing,  although  it 
was  by  no  means  a  bad  shot  as  it  was. 

The  light  of  the  fast-sinking  sun  turned  into  misty 
carmine  as  it  poured  along  the  great  valley  leading 


JUNE   SHOO  TING.  187 

up  from  the  San  Luis  River ;  the  gray  uniform  of  the 
great  host  of  giant  boulders  that  stood  guard  along 
the  gateway  through  the  high  hills  towards  Temecula 
changed  into  purple,  and  the  dark-green  of  the  chap- 
arral-covered hills  towards  Montserrate  shaded  into 
blue  ;  and  with  these  changes  of  the  face  of  nature 
the  rabbits  and  hares  (to  preserve  throughout  for 
clearness  this  unscientific  distinction)  appeared  more 
and  more  numerous.  At  single  points  along  the  edge 
of  the  brush  might  be  seen  half  a  dozen  at  a  time. 

Here  is  one  just  stepped  out  of  bed,  still  uncertain 
whether  it  is  yet  time  to  get  up.  He  looks  dubiously 
around,  then  draws  himself  up  until  he  looks  like  a 
little  ball  of  brown  fur,  and  sits  between  two  bushes 
of  white  sage,  looking  out  upon  the  world  as  uncon- 
cerned about  you  as  an  Eastern  friend  who  owes  you 
money  when  you  get  buried  in  the  wilds  of  Cali- 
fornia. A  wavy  glimmer  of  brown  with  a  flickering 
attachment  of  white,  fading  in  the  sage  almost  before 
it  can  be  seen,  is  all  that  remains  of  the  serene  little 
bunny  if  you  approach  a  step  or  two  closer. 

Here  is  another,  a  callow  youth  of  only  a  few  weeks. 
He  is  nearly  full-grown,  however,  and  very  naturally 
feels  his  importance.  As  the  party  approaches,  he 
hops  out  farther  on  the  open  ground,  sits  up  and 
scratches  one  ear,  neglects  even  the  precaution  to  turn 
his  head  towards  the  brush,  and  nibbles  a  little  dry 
alfileria.  He  will  prove  an  easy  prey,  this  fellow. 

Yes;  to  him  who  hunts  only  for  nutriment.  But  not 
to  those  who  care  not  for  the  contents  of  that  little 
brownish-gray  fur  coat,  but  give  him  heavy  odds  for 


188        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUM  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

his  little  life.  Zip !  goes  an  arrow  into  the  dry  grass 
beside  him,  and  swifter  than  "  the  rainbow's  lovely 
form  evanishing  amid  the  storm"  of  shot,  arrows,  and 
bullets,  he  scuds  into  the  brush. 

But  never  mind.  In  a  country  where  a  rabbit-proof 
fence  is  often  as  necessary  to  a  garden  as  is  the  soil 
one  need  not  wait  long  at  this  time  of  day  for  a  shot. 
Here  is  another  already,  an  old  and  sage  one.  Wis- 
dom sits  enthroned  upon  his  brow  as  he  surveys  the 
party,  turns  about  and  hops  a  step  or  two  into  the  brush, 
pricks  up  his  ears,  and,  like  some  other  smart  folks, 
watches  the  enemy  from  behind  a  blind  of  two  or 
three  sage-stalks  which  he  imagines  they  cannot  pen- 
etrate. He  might  have  changed  his  opinion,  per- 
haps, if  he  had  had  a  chance,  but  the  chiff  of  an  arrow 
through  the  sage  was  followed  too  suddenly  by  an 
impairment  of  his  abdominal  functions  to  permit  good 
brain-work,  and  he  remained  as  firmly  of  the  same 
opinion  as  man  often  does  when  floored  by  an  op- 
posing fact. 

"At  eve  the  beetle  boometh 
Athwart  the  thicket  lone." 

So  doth  the  evening  gun  of  the  San  Diego  bee- 
keeper as  he  taketh  in  his  daily  rabbit.  Bang!  comes 
the  echo  of  a  gun  from  down  a  long  cafion  that  leads 
to  Montseratte.  Whang!  goes  another  off  toward 
Fall  Brook.  The  roar  of  another  in  the  Vallecito 
itself  rattles  along  its  boulder-studded  hills,  and  is 
answered  by  the  boom  of  still  another  far  away  on 
the  San  Luis  River. 

"Thank  God  for  the  rabbits!    I'd  have  been  busted 


JUNE  SHOOTING.  189 

long  ago  without  Jem,"  an  old  settler  once  said  as  he 
rose  from  his  matutinal  mastication  cf  cotton-tails. 
The  remark  came  from  the  depths  of  his  heart,  and 
can  be  fully  appreciate)!  only  by  the  country  resident 
of  Southern  California.  The  bee-keeper's  staff  of  life, 
the  stockman's  relaxation  from  the  arduous  labors  in- 
cidental to  the  deglutition  of  "jerky,"  the  joy  of  the 
cactus  ranchero,  the  mainstay  of  the  tarweed  or  mus- 
tard ranch,  the  great  relief  of  the  soul  that  is  weary 
of  bacon  or  too  poor  to  buy  it — the  cotton-tail  of 
Southern  California  stands  without  a  peer  among  the 
useful  animals  of  this  world. 

After  going  on  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  as  the  hun- 
ters rounded  a  point  of  brush,  a  huge  hare  shot  out 
with  a  rush  from  beyond  it,  and,  turned  from  his 
straight-away  course  by  an  arrow  striking  ahead  of 
him,  he  sped  away  directly  across  the  face  of  the 
party.  Bang!  goes  Norton's  gun,  but  still  he  holds 
his  rapid  way.  Whang!  goes  Eveline's,  yet  still  that 
old  hare's  days  go  on,  go  on.  Crack!  goes  the  rifle, 
and  the  dirt  flies  just  beneath  him  as  he  rises — a 
pretty  good  shot  nevertheless,  for  no  human  skill  can 
allow  for  that  rapid  rise  and  fall.  Bang!  goes  another 
barrel  of  Norton's  gun,  and  one  hind  leg  dangles  in 
the  air.  The  rifle  cracks  again,  and  the  dirt  flies  just 
over  his  back;  again,  and  he  spins  over  and  over  in  a 
whirling  somersault. 

NOTE. — Since  the  wonderful  discovery  that  glass  balls  may  be 
hit  with  a  rifle  when  practically  at  rest,  and  at  a  distance  so  short 
that  a  mere  child  could  hit  them  if  really  at  rest,  such  absurd  ideas 


190         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

have  grown  up  about  rifle-shooting  at  moving  marks  that  Belville's 
shooting  at  hares  may  to  some  seem  to  be  very  poor.  But  until 
some  of  the  great  rifle-shots  dare  to  give  an  exhibition  on  balls 
tossed  across  the  line  instead  of  straight-away  fire,  and  at  fifteen 
yards  instead  of  fifteen  feet,  it  will  not  be  considered  necessary  to 
show  why  Belville's  shooting  with  all  its  misses  was  first-class. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A   JUNE    BUCK. 

THE  next  morning,  just  as  the  last  star  on  the 
western  verge  had  ceased  its  winking  at  the 
brightening  east,  Norton  and  Belville  might  have 
been  seen  winding  up  an  ancient  cattle-trail  that  led 
up  the  side  of  one  of  the  boulder-bespattered  hills 
that  inclose  the  green  amphitheater  of  the  Vallecito. 
Norton  soon  discovered  that  there  was  plenty  of  room 
among  the  boulders,  -and  here  and  there  the  gulches 
terminated  in  heavily  lined  pockets  of  dark  chaparral. 

The  trail  led  to  a  little  plateau  filled  with  boulders, 
brush-patches,  and  strips  of  meadow-grass,  breaking 
all  along  the  edges  into  small  benches  with  brush- 
filled  gullies,  and  pockets  between. 

"  There  is  a  highly  exuberant  old  buck  up  here 
somewhere,"  said  Belville,  pointing  to  a  print  of  two 
sharp-toed  hoofs  in  the  hard  ground  of  the  trail. 
"  This  track  was  made  last  evening,  and  he  is  some- 
where ahead  of  us.  We  must  go  up  to  that  ridge 
before  us  and  take  a  look." 

They  rode  up  to  the  top  of  the  ridge,  and,  after 
tying  the  horses,  climbed  quietly  to  the  top  of  a  pile 
of  granite  rocks  and  peeped  cautiously  over.  Belville 
took  first  a  cursory  glance  over  the  several  hundred 
acres  of  wavy  ground  that  lay  before  and  below;  then, 


192        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

taking  his  opera-glass,  he  began  a  cautious  survey  of 
each  particular  part.  Like  all  tyros,  Norton  gave  a 
general  glance  at  the  whole,  and  not  at  once  seeing 
anything  that  looked  like  a  deer  in  a  picture,  con- 
cluded there  was  nothing  there  and  began  to  look  at 
the  scenery. 

Long  and  thoroughly  Belville  scanned  the  sides  of 
every  gulch  and  pocket,  the  sides  and  back  of  every 
ridge,  and  the  broad  top  of  every  bench.  And  surely 
he  must  be  looking  for  rabbits,  or  mice  perhaps,  by 
the  way  he  examines  every  little  spot  of  brown,  yellow, 
gray,  white,  and  even  black.  What  have  such  spots 
to  do  with  deer? 

Ah!  my  friend,  pictures  of  field-sports  to  the  con- 
trary notwithstanding,  nothing  in  the  whole  line  of 
hunting  is  more  difficult,  nothing  in  still-hunting  is  so 
important  as  to  see  a  deer  before  it  sees  you. 

And  this  is  the  hardest  and  slowest  of  all  rules  of 
hunting  to  get  into  the  beginner's  head;  and  even 
many  successful  hunters,  by  losing  sight  for  a  moment 
of  its  supreme  importance,  often,  in  a  second  of  haste 
or  carelessness,  throw  away  the  fruits  of  hours  of 
patient  toil. 

Be  not  too  ready,  then,  to  blame  Belville  for  wasting 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes  in  scrutinizing  objects  that 
turned  out  to  be  stones,  patches  of  bare  ground, 
stubs  of  burnt  chaparral,  bits  of  dead  brush,  and 
so  on. 

And  now  what  so  suddenly  catches  his  attention  in 
yonder  small  patch  of  chaparral  some  three  hundred 
yards  away?  Only  a  faint  motion  in  a  top  of  a  bush;  a 


A  JUNE  BUCK.  193 

bird,  perhaps,  or  even  the  rising  breeze.  It  will  bear 
watching,  nevertheless;  and  Belville  knows  that  the 
bush  is  choke-cherry;  rather  stiff  for  either  a  bird  or 
the  faint  morning  breeze  to  stir,  especially  without 
stirring  any  other  bushes. 

It  moves  a  few  times  and  stops  for  several  seconds. 
Then,  again,  a  slow  wavy  motion  and  another  pause. 
Yet  there  is  nothing  else  to  be  seen  even  with  the 
glass,  and  that  brush  is  both  low  and  thin.  And  now 
the  top  of  the  next  bush  moves  with  a  twitch,  and 
Belville  whispers  to  Norton,  "  There  he  is,  browsing 
in  yonder  brush.  Now  you  stay  right  here,  for  if  he 
runs  he  will  be  just  as  likely  to  run  this  way  as  any. 
When  I  signal  to  you  from  the  rocks  or  whistle  to 
you,  do  you  take  the  horses  and  follow  that  trail. 
But  don't  leave  here  or  show  yourself  until  I  do  signal 
in  some  way."  So  saying,  he  pointed  out  the  place 
where  the  brush  was,  backed  off  the  ridge  and  disap- 
peared. 

With  rapid  but  quiet  tread  of  moccasined  foot,  Bel- 
ville soon  reached  the  base  of  a  rocky  ridge  that  ran 
out  to  within  fifty  yards  of  the  place  where  the  deer 
was,  and  some  forty  feet  above  him.  Along  the  side 
of  this  ridge,  out  of  sight  of  the  deer,  Belville  slipped 
with  cautious  step,  taking  care  not  to  snap  the  brittle 
brush  that  lay  along  his  path.  He  soon  reached  a 
pile  of  rocks  such  as  crowns  the  end  of  nearly  all  such 
ridges,  peered  cautiously  over,  and  saw  —  nothing. 
Nothing  but  half  an  acre  of  blackish-green  brush, 
the  everlasting  Adenostoma  fasciculata  of  the  Southern 
California  hills  and  mesas,  mingled  with  small  patches 


194      RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

of  the  sea-green  lilac  and  the  pea-green  choke-cherry. 
This  half-acre  formed  the  top  of  a  little  bench  which 
rolled  into  the  main  plateau  in  front,  on  the  sides  into 
chaparral-filled  gulches,  and  behind  into  masses  of 
frowning  boulder  chinked  in  with  wild  waving  arms 
of  the  scraggy  cercocarpus.  Away  to  the  right  he  could 
see  Norton's  hat  just  over  the  rocks  where  he  had 
left  him;  in  the  valley,  a  thousand  feet  below,  he  could 
see  the  distant  bug-shepherd  going  from  his  rabbit 
breakfast  to  his  apiary;  around  him  the  honey-bugs 
of  the  said  shepherd  were  already  humming  at  their 
morning  toil;  but  of  other  sight  or  sound  of  life 
there  was  none. 

And  what,  then,  is  the  matter?  Has  Belville  for- 
gotten the  very  important  point  of  locating  the  exact 
place  where  he  saw  the  motion?  No,  he  has  doctored 
too  many  deer  to  make  an  error  in  marking  so  plain 
a  symptom.  Then  the  deer  must  have  departed  while 
he  was  coming  around.  Quite  possible.  Perhaps  it 
heard,  smelt,  or  saw  him,  and  was  sufficiently  amused 
without  his  company.  Possibly.  But  Belville  evi- 
dently has  another  theory.  It  is  just  possible,  you 
know,  that  a  deer  might  stand  still  in  that  brush,  thin 
as  it  appears,  without  your  seeing  him.  And  by  the 
way  Belville  leans  over  the  rock  and  looks  he  must 
think  it  highly  probable  that  the  deer  is  still  there. 
He  has  lost  too  many  good  shots  by  the  too  hasty 
assumption  that  a  deer  had  left  the  place  where  he 
had  last  seen  it.  So  he  stays  and  looks  one,  two, 
three,  five  minutes — and  yet  nothing  moves. 

And  now,  Doctor,  why  with  all  your  experience  will 


A  JUNE  BUCK.  195 

you  get  up  on  that  stone  to  sit  down  ?  Is  not  your 
present  position  behind  it  just  as  good  to  examine  all 
the  ground  ahead  ?  But  how  the  deer-hunter  loves  a 
seat ;  especially  after  scrambling  among  San  Diego's 
rugged  hills  !  So  he  rises  up  to  take  a  seat  on  the  top 
stone,  when  a  sudden  smash,  bump  !  is  heard  below  and 
a.  bright  yellowish-brown  animal  with  graceful  neck, 
long  gray  ears,  white  buttocks,  and  light  trim  legs 
gathered  close  beneath  it,  bursts  upon  his  sight.  With 
easy  grace  it  rises,  throwing  itself  above  the  brush  at 
every  bound,  descending  with  a  smash  of  brush  and  a 
resounding  bump  of  its  four  stiff  legs  as  they  all  strike 
the  hard  ground  together,  then  bounding  upward 
from  the  touch  of  the  ground  as  though  it  were  a 
spring-board,  making  it  seem  as  though  the  great  dif- 
ficulty were  to  stay  on  the  ground  instead  of  in  the 
air. 

As  BeWille  raises  the  rifle  a  most  touching  "maaJ" 
comes  from  the  brush  ;  the  bright  brown  animal  stops 
a  moment,  turns  around  its  gray  head  and  black  fore- 
head and  utters  a  husky  but  plaintive  "  chaaa!"  in  reply, 
then  ricochets  away,  as  Belville  takes  down  his  rifle 
again.  For  a  moment  the  deer  is  nearly  out  of  sight  as 
it  bumps  along  in  its  billowy  flight  down  the  slope  ; 
and  then,  again  it  comes  into  full  view  over  a  smooth 
open  place  in  the  plateau,  bounding  as  high  as  if  there 
were  a  fence  every  ten  feet.  In  a  moment  it  reaches 
the  opposite  side  of  the  plateau,  stops,  and  throws 
itself  into  the  attitude  of  the  artists'  deer,  and  sends 
back  a  penetrating  "  chaaa  /"  to  the  heart-rending  cry 
that  follows  it  from  the  starting-place. 


196         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

And  now  two  little  brown  objects  are  dimly  seen 
flickering  like  hares  through  the  brush,  and  appear 
shortly  out  on  the  open  ground.  There  they  stand 
for  a  second,  their  bright  little  mottled  coats  shining 
in  the  just-rising  sun,  look  inquiringly  around  and 
send  forth  another  distressing  "  maa  /"  It  is  answered 
by  a  responsive  cry  from  the  old  one  on  the  other 
side,  and  with  heads  up,  one  on  a  trot,  the  other 
on  a  half-bound  and  half-canter,  they  cross  the  open 
ground  and  join  the  old  dame,  who  sends  forth 
another  "chaaa!"  and  goes  bounding  away  over  the 
rocks  and  through  the  brush. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?"  said  Norton,  as  he 
came  up  with  the  horses  in  answer  to  Belville's  signal. 

"  Fawns  entirely  too  small  to  get  along  alone,  and 
I  wouldn't  shoot,"  said  Belville.  "  Look,  here  is  that 
old  buck's  track  again  in  the  trail.  He's  gone  down 
into  the  cafion  yonder,  for  water  probably,  and  the 
question  now  is  whether  he  has  come  back  yet.  He 
certainly  has  not  come  back  this  way,  and,  as  this 
track  was  made  last  night,  it  is  not  very  likely  he  will 
return  this  way  at  all  now.  It  would  be  of  little  use 
to  follow  this  track,  for  it  will  lead  too  far  and  will 
become  too  hard  to  follow  as  soon  as  it  leaves  this  old 
cattle-trail." 

Half  a  mile  beyond  where  they  are  standing,  and 
several  hundred  feet  below,  is  a  basin  in  the  rugged 
hills,  a  great  hollow  or  pocket  with  sides  of  ragged 
chaparral,  huddled  boulders,  and  a  few  gnarled  and 
scattered  oaks.  A  small  spring  trickles  from  the  rocks 
in  a  gulch,  and  around  it  a  hundred  quails,  little  and 


A  JUNE  BUCK*  197 

big,  old  and  young  are  running,  calling,  and  drinking. 
There  is  a  sudden  flutter  among  them,  a  scrambling, 
squealing,  and  running.  Some  fly  up  into  the  bushes, 
others  hop  upon  stones  or  run  up  the  slopes  and  under 
the  bushes.  But  they  all  quickly  stop  and  look  behind 
with  a  low  "k-wook,  k-wook,  k-wook"  and  some  steal 
timidly  back  again,  as  a  huge  deer  steps  to  the  spring 
and  dips  in  his  black  nose.  How  quickly  he  drinks 
without  stopping  for  breath  or  even  to  look  about 
him — a  thing  the  deer  rarely  neglects  to  do  !  He 
lingers  not  a  moment  after  drinking,  but  walks  away 
with  that  slow-looking,  but  really  rapid  gait  that  so 
often  deceives  the  hunter.  One  hundred,  two  hun- 
dred, three  hundred  yards  he  goes,  up  one  of  the  many 
old  cattle-trails  that  lead  to  the  spring.  But  not  up 
the  one  he  came  down.  He  passed  last  night  on 
yonder  slope  where  the  scrubby  live-oaks  have 
elbowed  their  way  among  the  boulders,  and  to-day 
he  will  hie  him  to  a  cool  sumac  bush  on  the  breezy 
heights  a  mile  in  the  other  direction. 

And  now  he  stops,  nibbles  off  the  tender  leaves  of 
a  live-oak,  then  squares  around  and  with  up-raised 
head  takes  a  long  and  careful  look.  His  neck  is  thick 
and  arched  like  that  of  the  pictured  war-horse,  his  coat 
has  a  tawny  gloss,  his  forehead  and  nose  are  black, 
his  branching  horns  are  covered  with  dark  brown 
velvet,  his  rump,  round  and  bulging  with  fatness,  is 
white  behind,  and  in  the  center  of  the  white  is  a  little 
stubbed  black  tail  which  he  wiggles  with  considerable 
complacency. 

Satisfied  with  his  inspection,  he  stamps  a  fly  from 


198       RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

one  of  his  trim  gray  legs,  wiggles  his  paint-brush  tail 
again,  and  walks  on  to  another  bush  and  takes  a  nip. 
He  evidently  does  not  care  much  about  this  particular 
bush,  so  he  steps  along  to  another,  takes  two  or  three 
bites  from  its  tender  twigs  and  leaves,  then  raises  his 
head  and  takes  a  long  look  all  round,  takes  another 
bite  or  two  and  another  look,  wiggles  his  tail  again 
and  moves  on  a  few  paces,  then  stops  again  and  strikes 
an  attitude. 

He  is  evidently  of  the  opinion  that  he  is  pretty  smart. 
And  he  is  quite  correct,  too,  although  he  is  appallingly 
ignorant  of  the  limits  of  his  knowledge — a  failing 
which  some  people  should  be  charitable  enough  to 
forgive.  Like  old  Wisdom,  who  discovers  a  trick  or 
two  in  mining-stock  swindling,  he  thinks  because  he 
can  see  a  few  hundred  yards  beyond  his  nose  that  he 
sees  the  whole  horizon  ;  and  consequently  he  does  not 
observe  a  head  rise  slowly  above  the  rocks  on  the 
high  ground  that  forms  the  opposite  side  of  the  basin, 
some  five  or  six  hundred  yards  away. 

"  Do  you  see  that  chap  yonder  ?"  said  Belville  to 
Norton,  pointing  to  what  at  that  distance  showed  only 
a  spot  of  brown  through  the  bushes.  After  a  long 
and  careful  look  through  the  glass,  Norton  concluded 
that  he  did. 

"He's  mighty  small,"  said  he.  "It  looks  like  one 
of  those  fawns." 

"  Not  quite  as  big  as  an  elephant,  but  big  enough 
to  worry  two  stout  men  to  put  him  on  a  horse,"  said 
Belville. 

"Can  you  hit  him  from  here?" 


A  JUNE  BUCK.  199 

"No;  nor  any  other  man,  except  by  accident.  I 
shall  make  a  surer  thing  of  it  than  that,  and  if  we 
lose  him  at  all  it  will  be  through  those  natural  diffi- 
culties that  there  is  no  avoiding,  and  not  by  deliber- 
ate folly.  We'll  wait  here  first  and  watch  him,  for  he 
is  not  going  to  stay  long  where  he  is,  and  it  would  be 
nearly  impossible  to  get  a  good  shot  at  him  there, 
anyhow.  He  is  on  an  old  cattle-trail,  you  see,  and 
he  will  not  lie  down  until  he  gets  all  the  way  to  the 
top  of  the  hill." 

They  stood  and  watched  him  through  the  glass  and 
saw  him  lounge  in  elegant  leisure  up  the  hill,  now 
stopping  to  bite  off  some  leaves,  or  take  a  look  at  the 
scenery,  to  watch  for  danger,  or  to  gratify  that  inordi- 
nate propensity  a  deer  has  for  being  slow  when 
you  want  him  to  hurry,  and  in  a  hurry  when  you 
want  him  to  be  slow.  But  on  he  went,  along  the 
brushy  hill-side,  now  a  dim  moving  glimpse  of  white, 
now  of  brown,  now  of  both;  but  little  of  the  head 
visible  except  when  he  stopped  to  browse  and  look 
around.  Soon  he  reached  the  high  ground  on  the 
same  level  where  the  hunters  were,  and  disappeared 
in  a  little  sag  of  brushy  ground  that  led  to  an  open 
plateau. 

Quickly  they  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  to  with- 
in two  hundred  yards  of  where  the  deer  had  last  been 
seen. 

"  We'll  have  to  wait  now  for  the  breeze  to  turn," 
said  Belville.  "  You  see,  the  land-breeze  is  still  blow- 
ing and  we  can't  follow  him  in;  for  that  will  take  our 
scent  directly  toward  him.  And  if  we  swing  around 


RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 
USrjARY,  v/-Jr 

the  other  end,  we  will  not  have  time  enough  to 
worTToifHim  before  the  sea-breeze  begins,  which  will 
also  carry  our  scent  to  him.  In  the  mean  time  I  will 
go  around  to  the  side  and  climb  that  rocky  ridge  and 
look  over  into  the  flat." 

He  was  gone  nearly  half  an  hour,  but  could  see 
nothing.  About  an  hour  later  the  sea-breeze  began 
to  come  in,  and  they  rode  amogg  rocks  and  brush  on 
their  tough  mountain-horses  to  where  the  deer  had 
disappeared. 

"You  may  keep  on  your  horse  for  the  present, 
while  I  go  afoot,"  said  Belville,  handing  his  reins  to 
Norton,  after  which  he  went  some  distance  ahead. 
"Deer  are  not  hunted  enough  here  to  make  them 
watch  their  back  track  more  than  other  directions. 
But  you  had  better  keep  well  behind,  so  as  to  be  safe 
in  case  he  should  look  back." 

The  track  was  plainly  visible  in  the  old  trail,  and 
Belville  followed  it  some  two  hundred  yards,  when  it 
was  suddenly  lost.  He  looked  quickly  from  side  to 
side,  and  then  dropped  suddenly  on  his  hands  and 
knees  and  executed  a  retrograde  movement  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  a  blind  crab.  After  going  in  this 
manner  a  few  yards  he  got  up,  and,  slipping  softly 
back  to  Norton,  said: 

"  He  came  mighty  near  seeing  me.  He  is  up  that 
gulch,  but  a  little  too  far  off  for  a  sure  shot,  and  he 
was  moving,  too.  Now  do  you  please  go  up  this  trail 
'to  where  I  rose  up  off  my  hands  and  knees,  and  lie 
down  there  behind  that  little  bush;  and  don't  move 
unless  he  comes  near  enough  to  shoot.  If  he  runs 


A  JUNE  BUCK.  201 

out  you  will  get  a  shot,  and  I  will  swing  far  enough 
around  behind  him  to  make  him  run  this  way  if  he 
gets  a  chance  to  run  at  all." 

Tying  the  horses,  Belville  started  up  a  little  gulch 
next  to  the  one  in  which  he  had  seen  the  deer.  A 
cattle-trail  led  up  the  middle  of  it,  where  quiet  walk- 
ing was  an  easy  matter.  Reaching  the  head  of  the 
gulch,  he  wound  cautiously  out  of  it  and  upon  the 
ridge  that  lay  between  him  and  the  gulch  where  the 
deer  was  hidden.  Slowly  and  cautiously  he  raised 
his  head,  while  his  heart  throbbed  and  his  hands 
trembled;  yet  he  saw  no  sign  of  venison.  Higher  and 
higher  he  raised  his  head  until  more  and  more  of  the 
bottom  of  the  little  gulch  came  in  view.  Yet  all  was 
still.  The  cercocarpus  looked  darkly  green  as  usual, 
the  sumac  and  fusica  reared  their  arms  full  of  glisten- 
ing leaves,  and  the  manzanita  fairly  smiled  in  the 
warm  sun.  The  other  side  of  the  gulch  was  bounded 
by  a  barrier  of  boulders,  and  over  their  tops  he  saw 
the  silver  face  of  the  far-off  Pacific,  and  the  black 
wavy  hills,  yellow  slopes,  and  orchard-like  oak  groves 
of  Santa  Rosa.  On  the  right,  nearly  two  thousand 
feet  below,  lay  the  great  gorge  filled  with  green  tim- 
ber, where,  like  a  shining  serpent  embroidered  on  green 
velvet,  the  Santa  Margarita  winds  its  swift  way  to  the 
sea.  Far  off  to  the  left  the  hills  rolled  away  in  great 
ridges  with  bright  green  timbered  cafions  between, 
and  were  lost  in  the  high-frowning  hills  that  gird  the 
rancho  of  Montserrate.  Behind,  the  rugged  chain  on 
which  he  stood  stretched  away,  and  far  beyond  lay 
the  brown  plains  of  Temecula  and  San  Jacinto;  while 


202       RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA 

the  far-off  looming  blue  with  cloudy  crowns  marked 
the  sites  of  Grayback  and  San  Jacinto. 

Yes,  all  was  there  except  the  thing  he  wanted — a 
luxury  that  never  fails  in  San  Diego's  bountiful  stores 
of  rock,  brush,  mountain,  plain,  and  canon.  Long  and 
eagerly  Belville  gazed;  but  all  was  still,  except  the 
soft  whispering  of  that  unfailing  daily  breeze  from 
the  shining  sea  which  makes  summer  in  this  southern 
land  much  less  uncomfortable  than  in  higher  latitudes 
on  the  Atlantic  coast. 

In  the  bottom  of  the  pocket  into  which  he  is  look- 
ing is  a  large  sumac  with  bright  green  leaves,  full 
blown  with  blossoms  of  yellowish  white.  The  sea- 
breeze  that  here  searches  almost  every  canon,  gulch, 
and  pocket  breathes  a  grateful  coolness  through  the 
verdant  shades.  What  a  fine  place  to  loaf  away  the 
longest  day  of  the  year,  far  above  earthly  cares  and 
earth-born  jars  ! 

So  Belville  thinks,  as  he  tries  with  his  glass  to 
pierce  the  heavy  verdure;  when  a  thrill  of  delight 
shivers  through  him  as  he  catches  a  glimpse  of  brown 
at  the  bottom  of  the  gulch.  He  raises  his  rifle;  but 
when  he  looks  through-  the  sight  he  finds  the  mark 
too  dim  and  uncertain  for  a  sure  shot.  So  he  backs 
quietly  out  of  his  present  position,  shifts  around  some 
twenty  yards  to  one  side,  and  cautiously  raises  his 
head  again  in  time  to  discover  that  he  had  come  within 
an  ace  of  shooting  at  a  piece  of  brown  rock  in  the 
bush. 

He  looks  a  little  sharper  and  raises  his  head  a  lit- 
tle more,  when  a  sudden  crash  of  brush  by  the  shady 


A  JUNE  BUCK  203 

side  of  a  big  rock  some  thirty  yards  to  one  side  of  the 
bush  reminds  him  of  a  highly  important  fact  which 
he  had  in  his  haste  overlooked — that  deer  do  not 
always  appreciate  the  hunter's  kindness  in  selecting 
good  places  for  them  to  lie  down  in,  but  sometimes 
prefer  to  make  their  own  selection. 

He  also  discovers  another  important  fact — that  deer 
do  not  always  run  just  where  you  want  them  to  ;  an 
idiosyncrasy  highly  developed  in  the  deer  of  Southern 
California.  Thus,  instead  of  running  down  the  gulch 
so  as  to  offer  a  good  open  shot,  with  a  run  past  Nor- 
ton in  case  he  should  escape  Belville's  rifle,  the 
brown  beauty  now  in  question  bounds  up  the  hill 
among  great  boulders  and  bushes  so  thick  that  it 
would  seem  difficult  even  to  walk  among  them.  Yet 
little  cares  the  buck  for  either  ;  rough  ground  is  his 
delight ;  he  rises,  falls  with  a  crash  and  a  bump,  and 
swings  again  on  high  like  a  thing  of  air  rather  than 
of  earth. 

Bang!  goes  the  rifle  as  he  sweeps  through  the 
shrubbery,  and  the  ball,  whizzing  through  the  place 
he  has  just  left,  hisses  harmlessly  away  over  the  great 
Temecula  canon  far  below.  Bang!  goes  another 
shot  aimed  to  catch  him  as  he  rises  ;  but  he  never 
rises  twice  alike,  and  as  he  clears  a  bush  with  slant- 
ing spring  the  ball  splashes  itself  to  pieces  against  a 
rock  by  his  side.  Vainly  Belville  tries  to  hold  the  rifle 
on  the  point  where  the  buck  will  touch  ground  ;  for 
now  he  springs  fifteen  feet  ahead,  sinking  out  of 
sight  among  the  brush  and  rocks;  now  ten  feet  ahead 
and  five  to  one  side;  now  five  feet  ahead  and  five  to 


204       RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

the  other  side;  now  going  down  behind  some  rock, 
from  the  top  of  which  the  ball  sings  over  the  depths 
beyond;  now  flashing  full  on  high  with  his  whole 
shining  body  in  the  bright  sun,  clear  above  brush 
and  rocks,  falling  as  the  ball  spins  over  him,  and 
glancing  up  again  from  the  hard  ground  as  he  strikes 
—all  the  time  fast  nearing  the  top  of  the  ridge.  Over 
he  goes  in  a  high  curve,  clear-cut  in  outline  against 
the  western  sky,  a  beautiful  mark  if  it  only  stayed 
long  enough.  The  rifle  cracks  as  the  figure  clears  the 
climax  of  its  bound,  a  plain  whack!  is  borne  back  on 
the  ocean  breeze,  and  a  fore-leg  dangles  useless  on 
the  buck. 

Thanks  to  the  light  moccasins,  which  never  slip, 
Belville  skipped  along  the  tops  of  the  boulders  and 
reached  the  farther  edge  in  about  a  minute.  A  wild 
mass  of  steep  confusion,  chaotic  with  rocks  and 
scraggy  brush,  lay  before  him,  and  the  buck — stopped  ? 
Yes,  as  the  rocket  when  it  is  once  fairly  started  stops 
when  the  stick  breaks.  Fast  as  before,  but  more 
erratic  in  his  twist,  he  went  down  the  rocky  slope, 
smashing  through  brush  like  a  circus  rider  through 
papered  hoops,  bounding  as  high  as  if  he  had  gained 
another  leg  instead  of  losing  one.  Bang!  whang! 
bang !  whang !  went  the  swift  repeater  with  desperate 
energy.  The  bullets  sank  glancing  from  the  rocks 
into  the  bluish-green  abyss  below,  or  spattered  into 
leaden  spray  against  their  granite  sides.  Bang!  bang ! 
bang!  in  quick  succession  sounds  the  rifle;  and  at 
last  a  faint  spat  is  heard  ;  the  bound  changes  to  a 
lumbering  canter  ;  the  buck  no  longer  clears  the  brush, 


A  JUNE  BUCK.  205 

but  smashes  headlong  through  it  with  his  momentum  ; 
he  still  steers  clear  of  the  rocks  and  bushes,  crashing 
onward  for  several  yards,  when  suddenly  he  lunges, 
staggers,  rolls  heavily  through  a  bush,  which  is 
crushed  beneath  his  weight,  and  the  dust  rises  from 
his  scuffling  feet  as  he  turns  a  somersault  on  the  dry 
ground  among  the  rocks. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CORRALING       ANTELOPE. 

ALAND  bare  and  sere,  swept  by  clouds  of  dust, 
oppressed  with  unrelieved  heat,  its  weary  exist- 
ence enlivened  only  by  hosts  of  tarantulas,  centipedes, 
scorpions,  fleas,  snakes,  and  other  reptiles  and  vermin 
— such  is  San  Diego  County  in  summer,  according  to 
the  imaginations  of  many  who  have  had  no  opportu- 
nity to  know  better,  and  according  to  the  report  of 
many  who  do  know  better  but  fear  that  the  harbor 
of  San  Diego  may  some  day  take  away  a  few  dollars' 
worth  of  trade  from  some  northern  port. 

Yet  never  was  a  falser  picture  drawn.  The  sun  is 
indeed  at  times  too  loving,  and  at  rare  intervals  the 
desert's  breath  overleaps  its  high  mountain  barriers 
and  pays  a  visit  to  the  coast.  And  the  same  is  true 
of  all  Southern  and  of  portions  of  Northern  California. 
The  dust  on  those  very  few  roads  that  are  much 
traveled  with  heavy  teams  is  bad  enough  ;  and  bad 
enough  are  the  fleas  if  you  carpet  your  floor  with 
cats  and  dogs.  Tarantulas,  centipedes,  scorpions,  and 
such  like,  may  be  found  in  the  cabinet  of  the  bug- 
hunter,  and  if  you  spend  a  season  in  camping  and 
hunting  you  may  see,  perhaps,  a  dozen  rattlesnakes- — 
the  only  poisonous  snakes  here. 

But  for  him  who  has  nothing  to  do  but  make  himself 


CORK  AUNG  ANTELOPE.  207 

comfortable  and  knows  how  to  do  it,  there  is  hardly  a 
part  of  the  Union  where  the  summer  is  more  free  from 
insect  and  reptile  pests,  from  dust,  heat,  mud,  rain,  or 
other  climatic  discomforts,  than  the  western  half  of 
San  Diego.  The  desert  is,  of  course,  nearly  intolerable 
with  heat,  but  the  mountains  cut  this -off  almost  com- 
pletely. Although  there  are  three  kinds  of  winter 
here,  there  is  but  one  summer — a  long  chain  of  sap- 
phires in  settings  of  gold  and  ruby.  Weeks  glide  into 
months  and  months  roll  into  seasons,  yet  the  long  pro- 
cession of  cloudless  days  rolls  on  so  swiftly  and  so 
smoothly  that  one  forgets  the  day  of  the  week  and 
almost  the  month  itself.  .  . 

Come  hither,  my  young  friend  who  hast  taken  a  few 
primary  lessons  in  philosophy,  and  let  me  catechise 
thee. 

What  is  the  effect  of  air  so  dry  that  a  piece  of  meat 
nearly  an  inch  thick  hung  in  the  air  will  dry  up  and 
cure  without  salt  or  smoke  ? 

The  direct  rays  of  the  sun  would  be  hot ;  the  shade 
cool  ;  and  the  evaporation  of  perspiration  would  be  so 
rapid  that  the  body  would  feel  much  cooler  at  the  same 
temperature  than  in  damper  air.  Like  the  gentle 
breeze  or  the  well-plied  fan,  it  produces  faster  evapo- 
ration on  the  skin. 

Very  good.    And  what  would  be  the  effect  at  night  ? 

Rapid  radiation  of  heat  from  the  earth,  and  cool 
nights  in  consequence. 

Suppose  the  heated  air  that  rises  from  the  land 
could  not  flow  over  eastward  because  of  the  hot 


208      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

deserts  of  this  country  and  Arizona ;  where  would  it 
go? 

To  the  west,  out  to  sea. 

And  suppose  it  there  met  the  cold  current  of  air 
that,  sweeping  down  the  northern  coast,  makes  San 
Francisco  so  cold  in  summer,  and  which  passes  this 
country  several  miles  out  at  sea  greatly  modified  by 
the  difference  in  latitude.  What  would  be  the  effect  ? 

It  would  quickly  cool  and  descend. 

And  from  whence,  then,  would  the  vacuum  caused  by 
the  rising  of  the  air  on  land  be  filled  ? 

By  this  same  air  that  has  thus  flowed  over  and 
become  suddenly  cooled. 

So  that  the  daily  sea-breeze  which,  searches  every 
nook  and  cranny  of  the  hills,  instead  of  being  a  damp 
sea  wind,  is  what  ? 

The  dry  land-air,  tumbling  over  seaward  from  above 
and  coming  back  again  on  the  same  principle  as  the 
undertow  on  the  shore. 

Correct.  And  that  is  why  meat  that  would  spoil 
in  the  driest  part  of  Illinois  will  cure  here  on  the  coast 
almost  as  well  as  in  the  interior.  Then  there  would 
be  a  daily  breeze  of  cool  dry  air  from  the  sea,  and  a 
cool  land-breeze  descending  from  the  mountains  at 
night.  And  now  if  ninety-nine  per  cent  of  the  surface 
of  the  country  were  as  dry  as  a  fresh-baked  brick,  how 
about  the  malaria  that  is  deemed  inseparable  from 
southern  climates  ? 

There  could  not  be  any. 

And  now  you  see  how  easily  one  can  deduce  the 


CORRALING  ANTELOPE.  209 

summer  climate  from  the  unquestioned  conditions. 
And  such  experience  shows  it  to  be,  all  these  effects 
being  heightened,  of  course,  by  the  thinner  air  and 
better  shade  of  the  mountains. 

But  surely  the  land  is  dreary  and  bare  ;  for  no 
vegetation  is  possible  under  such  a  steady  sun-bake  ? 

Yes.  The  fern-like  leaves  and  bright  pink  stars  of 
the  alfileria  are  gone,  and  dead  and  brown  are  the 
bright  green  clovers  with  their  little  golden  and  bluish- 
purple  flowers.  But  in  their  places  is  a  thick  mat  of 
hay  and  seed  all  ready  for  your  horse,  on  which  he 
can  travel  farther  and  keep  fatter  than  on  the  best 
of  high-priced  timothy  and  oats.  Gone,  too,  is  the 
bright  green  grass  that  glowed  along  the  sunny  slopes, 
and  in  its  place  is  the  yellow  glare  of  the  ripened  fox- 
tail, abundant  and  worthless.  The  bright  scarlet  of 
the  orthocarpus  is  gone  ;  the  blaze  of  shooting  stars, 
poppies,  buttercups,  and  daisies  has  burnt  out ;  and 
the  glittering  host  of  violets  and  pinks  that  lately 
spangled  the  land  with  such  prodigal  splendor  have 
trailed  their  bright  banners  in  the  dust. 

Some  of  our  fair  friends  of  a  few  months  ago  have 
changed  to  enemies.  The  fedlias  that  beamed  with 
such  wealth  of  purple  are  now  hateful  with  fine  dry 
"  stickers;"  the  soft  moss-like  little  creeper,  so  tenderly 
pink,  is  now  too  "stimulating"  to  sit  down  upon;  the 
delicate  little  clover,  that  spread  such  a  thick  green 
carpet  over  meadow,  plain,  and  hill,  has  sown  its 
burry  seeds  by  the  myriad — the  joy  of  your  horse, 
but  the  terror  of  your  blanket;  and  the  silken  grass, 


210      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

that  shone  so  bright  beneath  the  aged  oak  along  the 
mountain's  breast,  is  now  the  hateful  "  tickle-grass" 
that  hankers  ever  for  your  stockings. 

But  perhaps  you  think  all  color  has  faded  from 
the  land.  You  very  natually  forget  that  nature  is 
prodigal  of  vegetation  that  would  flourish  best  on  the 
southern  slope  of  old  Pluto's  ash-heap.  With  the 
exception  of  grass  and  small  flowers,  the  land  is 
nearly  as  green  as  ever.  In  the  canon  and  river 
bottom  the  sycamores,  the  oaks,  the  cottonwoods, 
willows,  alders,  and  other  deciduous  trees,  are  all  in 
the  noon  of  life.  Over  their  tops  the  rank  grapevine 
clambers  and  hangs  in  showers  of  foliage,  and  around 
their  trunks  or  over  the  piles  of  old  gray  rocks  the 
poison  oak  —  beautiful  serpent  —  twines  its  shining 
green  leaves,  now  rapidly  turning  to  crimson.  In 
thick-matted  jungles  the  wild  rose  and  sweet-brier, 
which  are  now  in  full  bloom,  line  the  paths  through 
the  creek  bottoms;  on  the  more  open  flats  the  elder's 
green  wealth  and  berry  clusters  still  shine  on  every 
hand;  all  over  the  low  ground  the  wild  gourd  spreads 
it  great  green  leaves;  and  on  those  lands  that  are  low 
enough  to  be  still  wet  the  agna  mansa,  the  title,  and  a 
score  of  rank  grasses  and  reeds  are  struggling  to  sur- 
pass each  other. 

The  hills  are  less  changed  than  the  plains  and 
cafions.  The  bayonet's  proud  plume  of  purple  and 
white  no  longer  waves.  The  myriads  of  colored 
creepers  have  shed  their  gaudy  robes;  the  cardinal 
flower,  the  larkspur,  the  painted  cup,  the  Indian  pipe, 


CORRALING  ANTELOPE.  1 

and  their  thousand  and  one  comrades  have  folded 
their  starry  flags.  But  the  fusica  is  more  green  and 
shining  than  ever;  the  sumac  is  in  its  fullest  glory 
of  leaf  and  bloom;  the  wild  gooseberry  has  indeed 
shed  its  crimson  trumpet-flower,  but  its  leaves  and 
those  of  the  currant  are  as  bright  as  ever;  the  wild 
buckwheat  shows  it  reddish  snow  on  every  hand;  the 
cedary  arms  of  the  baccharis  are  tufted  with  white 
feathery  plumes;  the  lilac,  manzanita,  cherry,  cercocar- 
pus,  chemisal,  and  other  chaparral  bushes  are  all  in  the 
heyday  of  life;  the  tall  stalks  of  the  white  sage  are 
still  bright  with  blossoms  for  the  busy  bee,  and 
around  the  ever-green  ramiria,  the  buckwheat,  and 
other  bushes,  is  twined  in  endless  mazes  the  silken 
orange-colored  floss  of  that  fairest  of  parasites,  the 
dodder  (Cuscuta  Calif ornica). 

The  quail  that  last  winter  was  so  wild  now  nods 
its  black  plume  from  the  rock  by  the  roadside,  or 
leads  its  band  of  half-fledged  young  trotting  swiftly 
along  in  front  of  your  horse  or  scrambling  up  the 
rock  pile  by  his  side.  The  linnet  and  the  lark  still 
pour  a  flood  of  song,  though  it  is  a  flood  that  is  fast 
ebbing;  the  road-runner  or  chaparral  cock  scuds  along 
the  edges  of  the  plains;  the  mocking-bird,  humming- 
bird, oriole,  swallow,  and  all  birds  except  the  robin,  are 
still  here  at  home  in  summer  as  in  winter,  and  never 
leave  for  northern  fields;  ground-squirrels,  about  the 
size  of  eastern  gray  squirrels,  run  and  scamper  on 
every  hand,  very  pleasant  to  look  at  if  you  are  not  in 
any  agricultural  or  horticultural  business;  while  at 


212      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

evening  and  morning  rabbits  and  hares  play  around 
the  brush  more  numerous  than  ever. 

This  much,  not  by  way  of  praising  the  country — a 
business  gladly  left  to  those  who  live  in  this  country 
from  choice  or  own  real  estate  here — but  to  show  that 
the  invalid  who  stays  here  for  the  summer,  instead  of 
fleeing  as  he  would  from  Florida  and  most  other 
sanitary  retreats,  is  not  such  a  "  pluperfect  pancake" 
as  his  wiser  brethren  might  imagine. 

It  was  not  strange,  then,  that  Norton  said,  as  he  and 
Belville  with  the  two  ladies  early  on  the  day  follow- 
ing the  capture  of  the  buck  rode  down  through  the 
heavy  oak  grove  of  Montserrate,  "  I  really  believe 
we  are  going  to  enjoy  the  summer  here  as  much  as 
the  winter." 

They  were  bound  for  Miner's  ranch  again,  where 
they  were  to  prepare  for  a  trip  to  the  Cuyamaca 
Mountains.  Over  many  a  weary  mile  they  rode;  but 
the  horses  were  good,  the  roads  were  hard  and  free 
from  dust,  and  the  breeze  was  in  their  faces  nearly  all 
the  way.  So  they  soon  cleared  the  bouldered  heights 
and  oak-clad  hills  of  Montserrate,  the  billowy  slopes  of 
the  San  Luis  River,  covered  with  sage  and  sumac,  and 
the  rolling  plains  of  Buena  Vista  and  San  Marcos,  pass- 
ing the  wheat-fields  of  San  Bernardo  and  Poway  and 
descending  the  Sycamore  canon  of  El  Cajon  just  as 
the  sun  went  down. 

"Look  at  those  goats!  Are  they  wild  ones?"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Norton,  as  they  went  down  the  canon. 

Some  three  hundred  yards  away  were  eight  or  ten 


CORRALING  ANTELOPE.  213 

light,  trim  little  creatures,  white  beneath  and  half- 
way up  the  sides,  and  light  cinnamon  shade  above. 
They  were  stringing  along,  one  behind  the  other,  up  a 
gentle  slope  that  broke  away  from  the  hills,  apparently 
little  concerned  about  the  wagon,  yet  watching  it  as 
they  advanced  on  a  walk  so  swift  it  seemed  a  half-trot. 
-A  large  one  with  two  short  curved  horns  led  the  line, 
and  three  little  kids  closed  up  the  file. 

"Antelope!"  said  Belville,  reaching  for  his  rifle. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  there  were  any  antelope  in  the 
country,"  said  Norton. 

"  There  are  three  or  four  bands  still  left  in  this  part 
of  this  county,  and  this  is  one  of  them.  California 
was  once  the  leading  country  of  the  world  for  ante- 
lope, but  the  demand  of  the  almighty  palate  has 
nearly  closed  them  out.  Still,  for  sport's  sake,  I  must 
have  one  of  them." 

He  took  out  his  rifle,  raised  the  sight,  looked  at  the 
slowly-retreating  antelope,  and  after  a  while  said, 

"If  I  shoot  from  here,  the  chances  are  all  against 
touching  them,  for  they  are  now  over  four  hundred 
yards  away.  I  stand  little  chance  of  getting  closer, 
for  it  is  too  late  to  make  the  circuit  that  would  be 
necessary.  If  I  try  to  get  closer  by  going  toward 
them,  they  will  be  quite  sure  to  run,  and  when  they 
once  start  they  will  probably  go  several  miles.  They 
are  not  scared  now,  and  if  left  alone  will  be  very 
near  here  in  the  morning.  So  I  will  let  them  go  till 
then." 

So  they  continued  on  to  Miner's,  at  which  hospi- 


214      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

table  place  they  received  a  hearty  welcome,  and 
secured  a  good  night's  rest  in  preparation  for  the 
morrow's  sport 

At  daylight  the  next  morning  they  set  out  from 
Miner's,  Norton  and  the  ladies  riding  along  for  amuse- 
ment, since  they  had  no  rifles  and  were  told  it  was 
quite  idle  to  take  shot-guns.  Miner,  who  was  always 
ready  to  help  his  guests  to  have  a  good  time,  went 
along,  taking  two  of  his  best  vaqueros,  or  herdsmen 
to  help  "corral  the  band,"  as  he  and  Belville  said. 

Over  two  or  three  dreary  miles  along  the  bluffs  and 
over  hills  hideous  with  Turk's  head,  prickly-pear  and 
cholla  cactus,  cobblestones  and  rough  ground,  the 
patient  horses  picked  their  way.  All  eyes  were  scour- 
ing the  plains  below,  while  far  down  along  the  river 
Belville,  with  Miner  and  his  men,  was  searching  the 
low  slopes  that  ran  away  from  the  hills.  Over  an 
hour  was  thus  spent  before  one  of  the  men,  pointing 
to  the  broad  bottom  of  the  valley,  said, 

"  There  they  are  !" 

A  mile  away,  five  or  six  little  whitish  animals  were 
descried,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  glass  a  few  more 
were  discovered  lying  down. 

"I  don't  believe  I  shall  have  to  use  the  red  flag  at, 
all,  but  can  sneak  on  them  down  yonder  barranca" 
said  Belville. 

"All  right,"  said  Miner.  "  They  are  not  very  wild, 
and  are  very  little  hunted  nowadays.  But  to  make 
sure,  you  had  better  go  around  about  two  miles  and 
strike  into  the  left  branch  of  the  barranca,  for  you  can- 
not get  into  the  other*  branch  without  passing  over 


CORRALING  ANTELOPE.  215 

open  ground  where  they  may  see  you.  In  the  mean 
time  we'll  spread  out  and  get  on  the  courses  they 
will  be  apt  to  take,  if  you  should  let  any  get  away 
from  you." 

As  Belville  departed,  one  of  the  men  started  for  a 
bush  on  a  ridge  a  mile  across  the  valley  with  a  rifle 
that  would  occasionally  hit  a  deer  if  the  sights  were 
not  held  too  closely  on  it.  Another  took  the  center 
with  a  riata,  or  lasso,  and  a  horse  that  would  charge 
on  anything  he  was  turned  at,  from  a  cactus  patch  to 
a  grizzly  bear.  Miner  took  one  of  the  slopes  on  the 
hither  side  of  the  valley,  armed  with  an  American 
navy  revolver  warranted  to  overshoot  an  elephant  at 
ten  paces  unless  the  shooter  aimed  at  his  toes.  Nor- 
ton and  the  ladies  remained  on  the  hill  with  the  glass 
to  see  the  fun.  As  the  antelope  were  on  the  extreme 
end  of  their  range,  which  ran  from  the  Tia  Juana 
River  to  El  Cajon,  about  fifteen  miles,  and  there  were 
nothing  but  brushy  hills  to  the  north,  in  which  these 
animals  will  not  go,  while  Belville  was  to  be  on  the 
east  of  them,  there  was  almost  a  certainty  that  those 
on  the  hill  would  get  a  good  view  of  the  show,  what- 
ever it  might  be. 

It  took  Belville  over  half  an  hour  to  get  into  the 
barranca,  or  gully,  and  when  he  had  accomplished 
it  he  found  the  antelope  had  moved  a  hundred 
yards  or  more,  and  were  now  standing  around  a 
little  knoll.  He  came  cautiously  a  little  way  on  to 
the  open  ground  with  a  strip  of  red  flannel  tied  to  a 
stick,  and,  lying  flat  vin  a  little  depression  in  the 
ground,  gave  an  upward  flip  of  the  rag.  Several 


216      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

times  he  waved  it  at  intervals  of  a  few  seconds,  allow- 
ing it  to  remain  in  sight  only  an  instant. 

This  performance  he  had  read  of  and  heard 
talked  of  by  hunters  ;  but  as  usual,  both  quills  and 
tongues  had  omitted  about  the  most  important  part 
of  the  instruction — to  have  plenty  of  patience.  He 
had  not  waved  the  stick  three  minutes  before  it 
seemed  half  an  hour,  and  he  could  not  resist  the  temp- 
tation to  take  a  cautious  look — extremely  cautious,  he 
thought. 

He  took  it,  but  it  was  at  a  dissolving  view  of  an 
"  arrangement  in  white  and  brown,"  lithe  and  easy  in 
movement,  spirituelle  in  grace,  only  cantering  with 
gentle  rolling  gait,  but  vanishing — oh  how  fast ! 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  sent  a  bullet  after  them. 
In  his  haste  he  aimed  at  the  bunch  with  the  usual  in- 
variable result — a  miss.  Ball  after  ball  went  hissing 
among  them  or  past  them,  or,  glancing  from  the 
ground  behind,  went  singing  over  them.  But  still 
they  held  the  even  tenor  of  their  way,  not  like  the 
high  -  bounding  deer,  but  with  low,  easy  canter, 
scarcely  seeming  to  rise  or  fall,  yet  fast  fading 
away. 

They  take  the  low  open  slope  lying  between  the  hill 
where  the  spectators  are  and  the  brushy  middle  of  the 
valley.  The  horseman  who  had  gone  across  the  val- 
ley mounts,  and,  riding  down  the  back  side  of  the 
ridge  out  of  sight,  starts  to  head  them  off.  Miner 
cocks  his  pistol,  and  rampant  murder  gleams  in  his 
usually  mild  eye.  The  man  in  the  center  begins  to 
coil  his  riata,  and  to  reflect  on  the  possibility  of  lasso 


CORRALING  ANTELOPE.  217 

ing  two  at  one  throw.  Meanwhile  the  victims  come 
rolling  gracefully  on  into  the  very  jaws  of  death. 

Yes,  here  they  come,  the  old  buck  ahead,  the  kids 
stringing  along  in  the  rear,  not  a  bit  in  a  hurry;  run- 
ning quite  slowly,  in  fact.  So  thought  Norton  and  the 
ladies  as  they  watched  them  from  the  hill;  but  then 
they  were  not  behind  them,  even  with  good  horses,  or 
they  might  possibly  have  thought  otherwise.  On  they 
come,  right  toward  the  waiting  murderers.  If  the 
other  man  with  the  rifle  were  only  there  too,  to  lie 
down  in  the  path!  But  fortunately  he  is  not,  so  that 
two  shall  escape  to  keep  up  the  band;  for  Miner's 
pistol  has  only  six  shots,  the  lasso  can  catch  only  one, 
and  there  are  nine  in  the  band. 

"  Whoop-ahT  Now  they  go  for  them,  one  from  each 
side,  right  for  the  leader  of  the  band,  the  herdsman 
swinging  the  riala  furiously  around  his  head,  and  the 
horse  snorting  with  joy  at  the  prospect  of  roping 
something ;  for  a  good  lasso-horse  likes  the  fun  as 
well  as  his  rider. 

And  still  the  antelope  come  ambling  on  with  the 
same  easy  grace,  and  without  swerving  to  right  or 
left.  Alas!  how  can  the  poor  things  swerve,  when  to 
swerve  is  only  certain  death  ?  Would  you  swerve, 
reader,  with  hanging  on  one  side  and  shooting  on  the 
other?  And  how  could  they  turn  back,  with  a  battery 
in  their  rear,  the  hills  lined  with  frightful  cholla  cactus 
on  one  side,  the  middle  of  the  valley  nearly  barricaded 
with  the  almost  equally  frightful  prickly-pear  cactus  ? 
With  all  deference  to  friend  Miner's  opinion,  corraling 
antelope  is,  to  say  the  least,  a  mean  trick,  and  every  one 


\ 

218      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

must  feel  his  finer  sensibilities  outraged  by  such  a 
gross  advantage  taken  of  such  Ipvely  and  innocent 
creatures.  But  still,  here  we  are,  and  we  must  look. 

Bang!  goes  Miner's  latest  model  American  breech- 
loading  navy  revolver,  and  the  ball  aimed  at  the  toes 
of  the  leading  buck  shivers  the  skull — of  a  Turk's  head 
about  two  hundred  yards  up  the  slope  and  ten  feet 
above  the  line  of  the  buck.  Wizzoo,  wizzoo,  wizzoo, 
wizzoo,  wee-oo!  goes  the  riata,  and  the  noose,  shooting 
out  some  thirty  feet,  encircles  with  its  deadly  embrace 
the  stubby  tail  of  a  terrified  doe. 

Both  the  horsemen  get  turned  around  in  time  to  see 
the  white  rolling  waves  rippling  away  over  a  wide 
expanse  of  cobblestone  and  little  mounds  ;  and  the 
other  horseman  comes  charging  through  the  brush 
in  the  middle  of  the  valley,  reaching  a  bit  of  rising 
ground  just  in  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  fading 
white  caps  and  say, 

"Yes,  that's  'em." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MOUNTAIN     GAME. 

CAN  this  be  in  San  Diego,  this  place  where  our 
friends  are  now  camped?  One  whose  observa- 
tion was  confined  to  a  few  miles  along  the  coast,  as  is 
the  case  with  nearly  all  visitors,  would  hardly  think 
so.  Around  them  stand  trees  as  large  as  any  seen  in 
Eastern  forests,  pines  with  great  thick  trunks  and 
stupendous  cones,  oaks  that  bear  acorns  thrice  the 
size  of  any  Eastern  acorns,  and  other  trees  of  various 
kinds,  standing  shoulder  to  shoulder  as  they  have 
stood  through  long  ages.  Softly  sighs  a  cooling 
breeze  through  the  tree-tops  and  the  dark  arcades 
beneath.  It  is  a  hot  day  in  the  lowlands,  warm  even 
here  out  in  the  sun  ;  but  what  do  these  wanderers 
know  of  heat,  as  they  lie  stretched  out  in  hammocks 
beneath  the  shady  trees,  with  a  crystal  spring  of  ice- 
cold  water — so  different  from  the  flat  warm  stuff  of 
the  lowlands — trickling  close  at  hand.  Along  its 
edge  the  ring-dove  of  the  mountains  .bathes  his  coat 
of  burnished  lavender,  then  flits  to  the  dead  limb 
above  and  bobs  his  glossy  head  and  white  collared 
neck,  and  inspects  the  visitors  with  his  golden  eye. 
The  bluejay  and  woodpeckers  of  varied  hue  flit  here 
and  there  through  the  shades,  while  far  above  through 
the  heavy  screen  of  leaves  one  may  see  the  black  eagle 


220         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

(we  have  him  at  last !)  wheeling  his  dark  form  against 
the  blue  dome. 

And  here,  too,  trailing  his  gray  brush  swiftly  over 
some  limb,  up  some  trunk,  or  over  the  carpet  of  pine 
needles,  is  another  dear  companion  of  early  days.  Ah, 
thou  dear  old  friend  of  childhood's  happiest  hours, 
though  long  since  I  ceased  to  enliven  thy  peaceful 
existence,  I  love  thee  yet.  Who  that  has  known  thee 
in  those  bright  days  can  ever  forget  thee  ?  Who  can 
forget  those  early  morning  hours  when,  with  stealthy 
tread,  straining  eye,  and  listening  ear,  he  threaded  the 
old  oak  and  hickory  woods  in  constant  hope  of  catch- 
ing sight  or  sound  of  thee  ?  Does  not  the  heart  bound 
again  as  memory  hears  the  distant  patter  of  the  crumbs 
from  thy  lofty  breakfast-table,  the  snapping  of  some 
distant  branch  beneath  thy  spring,  thy  rapid  bark 
slow-sliding  into  a  sleepy  "  cha-a"  or  the  patter  of  thy 
swift-bounding  feet  over  the  dead  leaves  toward  thy 
favorite  tree  ? 

Does  not  the  life-tide  start  again  as  recollection 
sees  the  little  strip  of  gray  swift-flashing  through 
the  green  shades  above,  dodging  around  the  heavy 
trunk,  flattened  on  some  limb,  rolled  into  a  fuzzy 
ball  among  the  highest  leaves,  or  ensconced  in  some 
big  crotch?  And  when  did  it  ever  burst  into  a  wilder 
flood  than  when  he  flung  his  graceful  form  in  head- 
long haste  from  tree  to  tree  while  you,  trying  to  load 
that  old  single-barreled  muzzle-loader  as  you  ran, 
perspiring  and  burning  with  anxiety  and  afraid  to 
take  your  eyes  off  the  fast-scudding  gray,  stumbled 
and  tumbled  along  below  ?  Then  you  recall  that 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  221 

great  day,  a  land-mark  on  the  journey  of  childhood, 
when  you  ran  him  into  a  hole,  climbed  the  tree  and 
stopped  it  with  leaves,  and  ran  home  for  an  axe  and  a 
bag.  You  remember  how  your  father  and  brother 
and  the  hired  man  came  back  to  help  and  look,  how 
the  bag  was  fastened  over  the  hole  and  the  squirrel, 
smoked,  punched,  and  scared  by  hammering  outside, 
went  with  a  bound  into  the  bag.  Do  you  not  recall 
how  you  took  him  home  and  tried  to  get  him  into  that 
revolving  cage,  how  warm  his  teeth  or  claws  felt  when 
you  tried  to  take  hold  of  him,  how  you  got  him  in  at 
last,  how  he  lingered  there  several  days,  uttering  an 
occasional  melancholy  "  cha-a"  until  one  day  he  rolled 
up  his  bushy  tail  and  died,  and  with  quivering  lip  and 
flooded  eyes  you  carried  him  out  and  buried  him  in 
the  best  little  box  you  had  ? 

Nor  is  this  merry  fellow  to  be  despised  even  by  the 
full-grown  boy.  Where  finds  the  eye  a  prettier  short- 
range  target  for  the  rifle,  or  one  that  takes  more  skill 
to  hit,  than  that  little  head,  seen  against  the  sky  over 
some  high  limb  or  darkly  visible  in  some  dusky 
crotch  ?  Nor  is  he  altogether  unworthy  of  the  shot- 
gun, when  he  runs  up  one  long  limb  that  reaches  out 
toward  another,  bridging  the  space  with,  crashing 
spring,  and  scuds  as  swiftly  down  that  limb  and  up  the 
next  one  almost  as  fast  as  one  can  follow  from  below. 

"There's  a  fine  chance  for  a  lady  to  try  the  rifle," 
said  Belville,  pointing,  as  he  lay  smoking  in  his  ham- 
mock, to  a  squirrel  that  with  energetic  twitch  of  his 
bushy  tail  was  barking  on  a  limb  about  sixty  yards 
away.  "  Or  you  can  try  the  head  of  that  pigeon  on 


222        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

that  dead  limb  above  the  spring.  Only  we  want 
nothing  hit  but  the  head.  Body-shots  dont  coun't." 

He  set  the  globe-sight,  and  Mrs.  Norton,  walking 
up  to  within  forty  yards  of  the  squirrel,  closed  out 
the  business  of  a  flourishing  young  pine-cone  about 
two  feet  from  his  tail,  while  the  prospective  victim 
twitched  his  brush  away  to  the  tree-top  with  remark- 
able expedition. 

"Never  mind  him;  there's  another,"  said  Belville, 
pointing  to  another  gray-coat  running  up  a  tree  per- 
haps eighty  yards  away.  "  Rest  the  rifle  on  that 
fallen  tree-top." 

She  did  so,  and  the  ball,  glancing  from  the  limb  be- 
side the  squirrel,  went  singing  up  into  the  air,  while 
the  squirrel  effected  his  disappearance  again  without 
stopping  to  sing. 

"I  haven't  seen  much  of  you  alone  lately,"  said 
Belville  to  Laura,  as  they  strolled  on  toward  a  pigeon 
that  sat  bobbing  its  head  on  a  dead  limb,  some  dis- 
tance beyond.  "I  have  been  quite  lonesome." 

"  Oh  !  I  have  to  be  more  attentive  to  Charley  now, 
you  know,"  she  answered  lightly. 

"He  don't  seem  to  be  failing  as  fast  as  he  was." 

"Why,  no,  indeed!  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  he  is 
improving.  He  seems  so  much  happier  too." 

"  Laura — I  cannot  call  you  Mrs.  Norton,"  said  Bel- 
ville, after  a  long  silence — "  I  see  now  that  I  have  let 
my  prize  slip  away  from  me  irrevocably." 

She  made  no  answer. 

"Laura,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "  do  you  not  pity 
me  ?  Have  you  no  part  in  my  regrets  ?  Did  I  really, 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  223 

in  my  too  hasty  considerateness,  give  away  the  heart 
that  I  had  as  well  as  the  hand  that  I  hoped  for?" 

"Dr.  Belville,"  replied  Laura,  "you  must  not  talk 
to  me  so  now.  I  am  another  man's  wife." 

"I  know  I  am  saying  strange  things;  but  the  cir- 
cumstances are  also  strange." 

"  I  shall  make  every  allowance  for  that,"  she  re- 
sponded, "  but  you  must  never  refer  again  to  that  wild 
episode  of  our  lives.  When  I  married  Charley  I  loved 
him  only  a  little  less  than  before.  I  married  him 
without  regret.  I  love  him  now  more  than  ever.  I 
am  his  wife,  and  you  must  treat  me  as  such." 

Belville  stood  abashed  for  a  moment  at  her  firm 
and  decided  tone,  and  said,  with  suppressed  feeling, 
"  Forgive  me  if  the  pain  of  losing  you  has  made  me 
forget  the  respect  that  is  due  you." 

"Why  do  you  laugh?"  he  asked  solemnly,  as  with  a 
smile  she  turned  to  go  again  to  the  camp. 

"Why,  Doctor,"  she  answered,  "with  all  that  is 
awful  and  sad  in  this  unhappy  affair,  there  is  still 
something  very  absurd  in  the  entire  situation." 

"  It  is  anything  but  absurd  to  me.  It  is  digging  my 
grave,"  said  he  with  quivering  lip,  as  he  left  her  side 
and  strolled  silently  back  to  his  hammock. 

Mid-day  came,  and  the  ring-doves  began  to  come 
into  water.  And  now  and  then  a  squirrel  came  hop- 
ping along  the  ground  toward  the  little  stream  that 
ran  away  from  the  spring.  Belville  seemed  indisposed 
for  shooting,  and  lay  in  his  hammock  smoking.  Eve- 
line Norton  had  brought  a  novel  with  her — verbum 


224      RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

sat.  And  Norton  and  his  wife  took  their  guns  and 
strolled  off  beyond  the  spring  and  sat  down  on  the 
soft  carpet  of  pine  needles  to  watch  for  pigeons  coming 
in  to  drink. 

"  You  are  feeling  a  great  deal  better,  ain't  you,  Char- 
ley?" said  Laura,  with  a  glad  sparkle  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  surely  am  improving  and  I  feel  much  better  in 
this  high  soft  air." 

"I  am  so  glad!"  she  exclaimed. 

"You  may  thank  yourself,  then.  You  have  saved 
me.'" 

"  I  meant  that  I  was  glad — any  way,"  she  murmured, 
with  faint,  hesitating  tone. 

"And  I  too.  It  would  have  been  the  same  if  I  had 
been  well." 

"  Perhaps — not,  Charley.  I  am  afraid  I  should  not 
have  been  so  happy." 

"Why  not?" 

"  There's  a  secret  that  I  cannot  keep.  I  know  you 
will  forgive  me,  because  you  know  how  glad  I  am  that 
it  has  turned  out  all  right.  Charley,  I  have  been  a 
very  naughty  girl,  and  came  near  losing  you — oh,  how 
near!" 

"  Of  course  I  forgive  you.  I  could  forgive  you  any- 
thing. But  please  explain.  I  am  in  the  dark." 

"There  was  a  time — thank  Heaven  it  passed  so 
quickly! — that  I  liked — him" — with  a  glance  toward 
Belville — "too  much.  Yet  I  loved  you  too." 

Norton  smiled.  "  Laura,"  said  he,  "  I  too  have  a 
secret  to  tell,  and  I  believe  you  will  as  readily  forgive 
me  as  I  do  you,  when — " 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  225 

He  was  interrupted  by  hearing  a  light  step  on  the 
ground  at  one  side,  and  turning,  saw  that  the  noise 
was  caused  by  a  big  yellowish-brown  doe  with  glossy 
sides,  followed  by  two  little  dark-brown  fawn?,  all 
mottled  with  white  spots,  which  walked  to  within 
twenty  yards  of  where  they  sat,  and  stopped  at  the 
little  spring  run  to  drink.  The  fawns  lagged  behind, 
and  one  of  them,  straggling  off  to  one  side,  came  to 
within  ten  feet  of  Norton  and  his  wife.  Petrified  with 
amazement,  both  sat  perfectly  still,  when  suddenly  the 
doe  raised  her  head,  uttering  a  hollow-toned  "phew  /" 
long-drawn  and  penetrating.  In  another  sesond  she 
sprang  several  feet  into  the  air,  landing  on  the  other 
side  of  the  rivulet,  bounded  like  a  ball  from  the  touch 
of  the  ground,  and  was  ricocheting  rapidly  towards 
the  camp,  with  the  fawns  springing  rapidly  after  her, 
when  she  caught  sight  of  Belville  scrambling  out  of 
his  hammock.  Quick  as  a  hare  she  turned  at  an 
acute  angle  to  her  course  and  went  back  directly  to- 
wards Norton  and  wife,  whom  she  had  not  yet  seen 
but  only  scented,  without  knowing  their  exact  direc- 
tion. But  now  she  went  no  longer  with  the  high-glanc- 
ing curve,  but  lay  down  and  hugged  the  ground  like 
a  scudding  hare.  Straight  towards  them  she  went  un- 
til within  twenty  feet,  when  they  made  a  very  expedi- 
tious removal  of  physical  obstructions  to  her  further 
progress.  This  turned  her  a  little,  and  she  fiew  past 
them  slightly  to  one  side,  and  with  the  small  shot  from 
Norton's  gun  pattering  harmlessly  on  her  tawny  coat, 
she  vanished  down  one  of  the  dark  vistas  of  pine  and 
oak. 


226      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

The  fawns,  on  account  of  some  brush  in  the  way  of 
sight,  had  not  seen  the  mother  turn,  and  ran  on  the 
course  they  had  first  taken,  straight  into  camp,  where 
with  a  dismal  "maaJ"  they  stopped  until  they  sawBel- 
ville,  when  they  turned  and  scampered  off  in  the  di- 
rection the  mother  had  taken. 

"  Don't  shoot !  don't !"  said  Norton,  as  they  came 
on,  seizing  Laura's  gun,  which  she  was  raising,  de- 
ceived by  the  appearance  of  the  fawns,  which  always 
look  much  larger  than  they  really  are. 

They  went  past  in  safety,  just  in  time  to  run  into 
the  loving  embrace  of  Belville's  dog,  which  was  com- 
ing back  from  a  fruitless  dash  he  had  made  after  the 
old  one.  One  of  the  fawns  uttered  a  piteous  "  maa  /"  as 
he  grabbed  it  by  one  of  its  long  ears  and  it  went  roll- 
ing over  on  the  ground,  kicking  like  a  little  fury.  The 
dog  let  go  with  a  yelp  as  one  of  the  little  sharp  hoofs 
struck  him  in  the  head,  but  grabbed  again  as  soon 
as  the  fawn  got  up.  Norton  was  soon  on  the  scene 
and  seized  a  hind 'leg,  which  he  held  about  as  long 
as  a  man  can  hold  an  electric  flash.  Although,  like 
the  dog,  he  was  useless  to  hang  on,  he  was  equally  good 
at  grabbing  again,  and  between  them  they  managed 
to  keep  the-  fawn  from  getting  away  until  Belville 
arrived  on  the  double  quick.  Belville  seized  both 
hind  legs  at  once,  one  in  each  hand,  and  at  the  same 
time  lifted  them  clear  of  the  ground.  A  few  swift, 
tremulous  kicks  were  given  with  the  hind  legs,  but 
there  was  not  force  enough  in  them,  and  the  capture 
was  complete.  A  rope  was  soon  brought  and  fastened 
around  the  captive's  neck,  and  after  half  an  hour's  ca- 


MOUNTAIN  GAME.  227 

ressing  it  followed  its  new  friends  back  to  camp,  where 
it  was  christened  "  Doc,"  and  henceforth  became  the 
most  contented  and  familiar  member  of  the  party, 
until  the  time  came  to  leave  and  they  tried  to  get  it 
in  the  wagon.  Then  ensued  a  scene  such  as  can  be 
appreciated  only  by  one  who  has  tried  such  a  job  as- 
sisted by  one  invalid  who  is  afraid  of  his  lungs,  and 
by  two  ladies — who  are  not. 

Then  came  "  Doc's"  day  of 'triumph,  and  after  a  long 
struggle  he  was  left  in  his  native  home,  with  many 
farewell  caresses  and  regrets  from  the  ladies  and  va- 
rious remarks  from  his  breathless  and  exhausted  name- 
sake, who  had  left  all  his  court-plaster  at  El  Cajon, 
and  had  not  even  a  needle  along  to  mend  the  rents  in 
the  only  coat  he  had  left  with  which  to  pass  through 
the  fashionable  city  of  Julian. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   MOUNTAIN    QUAIL. 

LET  us  follow  Belville  and  Eveline  as  they  start 
after  breakfast  one  morning  to  go  to  the  top  of 
the  Cuyamaca.     It  is  only  a  short  walk,  not  over  a 
thousand  feet  of  elevation,  and  we  will  see  where  we 
are. 

Half  a  mile  up  a  pine-covered  slope  and  we  reach  a 
shoulder  upon  which  rests  a  rocky,  pyramid-shaped 
head,  about  three  or  four  hundred  feet  high  and 
easily  climbed.  A  few  minutes'  time  brings  us  to  the 
top  of  this,  and  we  stand  upon  its  loftiest  rock.  A 
vast  sea  lies  far  below  on  the  west,  with  tumbling 
waves  of  snowy  white  rolling  like  great  masses  of 
carded  wool;  with  long  shafts  of  golden  light,  touch- 
ing, as  they  are  shot  through  the  eastern  mountain- 
gorges  from  Apollo's  fiery  bow,  the  crests  of  these 
.billows;  with  its  hundred  islands  of  different  heights 
looming  up  here  and  there,  some  in  a  full  blaze  of 
light,  others  just  tipped  with  gilded  spires,  others 
standing  dark  and  somber  in  the  shade  of  greater 
peaks.  Even  as  we  gaze  upon  this  sea  its  masses  be- 
gin to  break.  Great  rifts  of  bluish  green  with  edges  of 
gold  and  pearl  begin  to  yawn  along  its  rolling  sur- 
face, and  through  them  appear  the  dark  blue  chaparral 
of  the  hills,  the  long  green  winding  strips  of  river 


THE  MOUNTAIN  QUAIL.  229 

bottoms  and  cafions,  and  the  silvery-gray  heads  of 
rocks  and  cliffs.  And  now  through  the  farthest  rifts 
shimmers  the  distant  Pacific,  with  its  high  rocky 
islands  looking  like  small  ant-hills.  Soon  the  great 
white  sheet  is  entirely  broken  up  and  is  scudding 
away  to  sea  in  a  thousand  rolling  clouds,  the  whole 
western  slope  is  bathed  again  in  sunlight,  and  the  far 
ocean  shines  like  a  lake  of  quicksilver. 

Rising  thousands  of  feet  below,  in  the  yawning  gulf 
in  front,  the  San  Diego  River  winds  its  green  way  to 
the  sea  through  immense  rocky  walls.  Far  to  the 
right  the  serpentine  bottoms  of  the  San  Bernardo  and 
San  Luis,  and  on  the  left  the  verdurous  trails  of 
the  Sweetwater  and  Tia  Juana  rivers,  gleam  among 
plains  of  brown  or  yellow,  or  thread  the  gorges  that 
lie  between  the  dark  bluish  hills  of  chaparral  and  the 
bare,  dreary  heaps  of  rock  and  boulder.  Towards 
the  south  roll  in  wild  confusion  the  ragged  moun- 
tains of  Mexico,  and  for  hundreds  of  square  miles 
the  eye  wanders  over  a  tumbling  sea  of  rock,  cliff, 
chaparral,  boulder-studded  peaks  all  cleft  with  deep 
valleys,  and  canons  shining  in  their  winding  courses 
with  bright  green  timber.  Here  and  there  the  eye 
rests  upon  a  bright  little  valley  like  ,the  emerald 
lake  of  Pine  Valley,  sunk  in  the  mountain's  back  and 
eternally  green  with  timber  and  grass  or  the  golden 
stubbles  of  Viejas;  but  nine-tenths  of  it  all  is  primeval 
wilderness  that  will  remain  so  forever,  broken  only 
by  the  tread  of  the  herdsman's  or  the  hunter's  horse. 

Westward,  the  eye  rests  upon  more  pleasant  scenes, 
though  here,  too,  it  is  nearly  all  boulder,  chaparral, 


230      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

towering  heights  or  yawning  canons  ;  yet  many  a 
fair  valley  or  broad  open  plain,  nestled  in  a  girdle  of 
hills  or  sunk  in  some  mountain-gorge,  greets  the  eye. 
And  nearer  by  and  more  to  the  north  the  mountain 
chain  breaks  away  into  smooth  rolling  hills,  clad 
with  golden  carpet  of  dry  grass  and  studded  with 
oaks  like  some  old  Eastern  apple-orchard.  At  various 
points  one  sees  many  a  little  vale,  pocket,  or  flat, 
where  the  corn  nodding  along  the  road  and  the  little 
house  embowered  in  heavy  live-oaks  or  surrounded 
by  a  garden,  still  green  in  midsummer  without  irri- 
gation, bring  up  sad  memories  of  a  land  better  loved 
than  this.  One  hundred  miles  to  the  north,  the  bald 
pate  of  Grayback  looms  high  through  the  hazy  blue, 
and  around  him  are  clustered  his  smaller  brethern,  our 
former  friends  San  Jacinto  and  Cucamunga  rising  at 
his  side.  Scores  of  lesser  peaks,  that  in  the  East  would 
be  considered  "Cloud-Cleavers"  or  "Sky-Splitters," 
lie  between  and  all  around,  but  they  are  so  numerous, 
and  so  overshadowed  by  their  more  aspiring  brethern 
that  they  here  pass  unnoticed  and  unnamed. 

As  the  eye  naturally  wanders  around  to  the  east,  it 
ranges  over  more  crag  and  cliff  and  scar  with  a  few 
fine  valleys  between,  descrying  the  fair  meadows  of 
Treat's  ranch  almost  beneath;  until  in  a  few  miles  the 
country  tumbles  rapidly  away  in  dismal  desolation, 
without  a  gleam  of  green  or  blue  or  golden  yellow,  or 
other  sign  of  life,  into  the  wide-reaching  ghastly 
gleam  of  the  Colorado  Desert. 

In  all  this  vast  circuit  of  the  eye,  sweeping  a  space 
larger  than  Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island,  and  Con- 


THE  MOUNTAIN  QUAIL.  231 

necticut  combined,*  the  eye  rests  not  upon  a  single 
city,  town,  or  even  hamlet,  except  the  far-off  town 
of  San  Diego  and  the  little  pile  of  culled  lumber 
struck  by  a  whirlwind  that  lies  nestled  in  the  fairest 
part  of  these  mountains  and  goes  by  the  name  of 
Julian.  No  churches,  no  railroads,  no  anything  is 
seen  except  a  few  ranches  at  wide  intervals  and  little 
school-houses  still  more  widely  scattered,  with  here 
and  there  an  Indian  rancheria,  or  group  of  huts.  Yet 
nowhere  in  all  this  country  are  property  and  life  safer 
or  health  and  comfort  more  secure.  The  judiciary  is 
not  excelled  in  the  State;  in  few  places  are  taxes  as 
low;  nowhere  is  there  a  better  set  of  county  officers, 
nowhere  less  stealing  among  officials.  And  many 
a  day,  and  far  and  wide  over  the  United  States, 
may  one  travel  before  he  will  find  people  more 
cultured  and  refined  or  better  educated  than  the 
upper  half  of  the  white  population  of  this  county. 
Few  indeed  they  are,  and  scattered;  but  among  them 
one  will  look  in  vain,  even  among  the  many  "  forty- 
niners,"  for  the  Californian  of  the  novelist,  half  fool 
and  half  scamp,  or  the  typical  murderous  character 
of  fiction,  or  the  "galoot"  of  the  Eastern  scribbler  who 
writes  of  California  life. 

What  mellow  tones  are  these,  like  the  taps  of  the 
leather  hammer  on  the  glass  plates  of  the  harmonicon, 
that  arouse  Laura  from  her  novel,  and  her  husband 
from  his  after-breakfast  nap — a  thing  so  easy  to  take 
in  this  mountain-air.  "  Quoi,  quoi,  quoi,  quoi,  quoi!"  it 

*  This  county  alone  is  about  as  large  as  these  three  States. 


232      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

goes,  seeming  far  yet  near,  half  plaintive  and  half 
joyous,  half  calling  and  half  answering.  The  sound 
is  evidently  made  four  or  five  times  by  one  bird,  and 
then  taken  up  and  carried  along  by  another. 

Taking  their  guns,  Norton  and  Laura  went  slowly 
toward  the  sound,  which  grew  louder  until  they 
reached  the  little  spring  run,  a  hundred  yards  below 
the  camp,  when  it  suddenly  stopped.  While  waiting 
for  it  to  sound  again,  they  heard  a  "  queeah,  queeah,  quit- 
quit-quit-quit,  queeah,  queeah  /"  so  tender  and  plaintive 
in  tone  that  they  stopped  in  wonder.  This  new  sound 
came  again,  accompanied  by  a  faint  rustle  in  the  dry 
grass  and  weeds  some  twenty  yards  ahead.  Upon 
their  walking  closer,  the  "queeah,  queeah!"  became 
more  distressingly  anxious,  and  out  walked  in  plain 
sight,  almost  in  single  file,  two  dozen  or  more  graceful 
little  birds  a  trifle  larger,  but  of  about  the  same  shape, 
plumpness,  and  easy  motion  of  that  dear  little  friend 
of  the  Eastern  stubbles,  "Bob  White." 

The  leader  hopped  upon  a  low  stone,  the  next  one 
mounted  a  log,  another  fluttered  upon  a  rock,  while 
the  rest  walked  about  with  sober  visage  and  dignified 
pace  ;  all  with  frequent  cries  of  "  quit- quit- quit- quit, 
queeah,  queeah /"  or  a  simple  "queeah,  queeah!"  and  a 
mild  inquisitive  gaze  at  the  strangers,  in  which  curios- 
ity and  not  alarm  was  plainly  predominant.  Their 
colors  were  not  those  of  any  Eastern  game-bird.  With 
coats  of  brownish  gray,  vests  of  brilliant  cinnamon 
mottled  with  white  below  a  full  open  bosom  of  blue, 
four  white  bands  along  the  back  and  sides  and  around 
the  throat,  a  broad  white  collar  of  antique  cut  tied 


THE  MOUNTAIN   QUAIL.  233 

with  a  wide  cinnamon  cravat,  a  jaunty  cap  of  grayish 
brown  upon  the  neat  little  head,  from  the  center  of 
which  nodded  two  long  sable  plumes,  they  walked 
and  wheeled,  cocked  their  heads  from  side  to  side  to 
survey  their  visitors,  and  repeated  steadily  their  pe- 
culiar and  plaintive  note. 

But  though  they  showed  little  alarm,  evanescence 
was  most  decidedly  a  part  of  their  programme,  and 
all  this  while  there  had  been  a  manifest  purpose  to 
steal  away  gently.  Now  they  began  to  vanish  in  ear- 
nest. But  not  with  the  buzzing  wing  or  active  leg  of 
Bob  White  or  the  little  valley-quail  of  California. 
There  was  only  an  easy  grace  smacking  both  of  po- 
liteness and  impudence,  as  the  "dead  leaves  rustled  to 
the  patter  of  their  little  feet  and  they  began  to  fade 
in  the  grass  and  brush. 

"  Hold  on  !"  came  a  voice  from  behind  the  amateurs, 
as  they  raised  their  guns  to  shoot  before  the  birds 
should  get  away.  "  We'll  have  better  fun  than  that 
with  them.  Put  up  that  murderous  gun  and  bring 
forth  the  plaything  of  the  immortals,  Mrs.  Norton. 
You,  Norton,  keep  your  gun,  but  don't  shoot  at  any- 
thing until  it  flies." 

"  Why,  when  did  you — " 

"Just  dropped,"  said  Belville.  "And  just  in  time 
to  prevent  sacrilege,  I  see.  I'll  show  you  some  sport, 
however,  for  compensation." 

Old  Prince  stood  by  his  master's  side  as  he  spoke, 
the  very  incarnation  of  business.  His  tail  no  longer 
hung,  but  projected.  Stiff  as  an  icicle,  it  fairly  qui- 
vered at  the  tip  with  rigidity.  One  fore-leg  was  bent 


234      RIFLE,   ROD  AND    GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

double,  and  the  other  three  trembled  with  his  efforts  to 
keep  still  ;  while  his  body  was  firm  as  a  garden  statue 
in  a  Minnesota  winter.  On  his  aged  brow  sat  grave 
importance,  and  mighty  wisdom  shone  from  his  star- 
ing bright  eye.  His  nose  was  wrinkled  with  serious- 
ness, while  his  chaps  quivered  and  watered  like  those 
of  ye  city  epicure  what  time  he  beholdeth  on  one  of 
Delmonico's  plates  a  June  woodcock,  killed  while 
feeding  its  helpless  young. 

The  bow  and  arrows  were  soon  brought  and  the 
party  moved  on,  Mrs.  Norton  ahead  and  Prince  wad- 
dling along  in  the  rear  with  the  anxious  solemnity  of  a 
circus  elephant  walking  over  his  master.  His  legs 
rivaled  his  tail  in  stiffness,  and  he  looked  up  occasion- 
ally at  his  master  with  intense  satisfaction,  licked  his 
chaps  and  sniffed  the  air,  which  was  laden  with  that 
fragrance  the  dog  so  loves. 

The  birds  were  soon  overtaken,  and  as  they  huddled 
up  with  inquiring  "quit-quit,  queeah,  queeah  !"  about 
fifteen  paces  before,  an  arrow  decimated  the  feathers 
upon  the  brownish-gray  tail  of  one  of  the  number  and 
sent  half  a  dozen  of  his  immediate  neighbors  towards 
the  four  points  of  the  compass.  They  went  hardly 
twenty  feet  away,  however,  just  flying  up  and  alight- 
ing again.  One  of  them  lit  upon  a  stone,  another  on 
a  piece  of  dead  brush,  while  the  others  stole  back  to 
their  companions  who  still  mingled  with  the  soft 
rustle  of  gently  vanishing  feet  a  steady  and  dolorous 
" quit- quit,  queeah,  queeah!  quit-quit-quit-quit,  queeah, 
queeah  /" 

Whizz!  went  an  arrow  over  the  head  of  the  bird  on 


THE  MOUNTAIN  QUAIL.  235 

the  dead  brush.  He  cocked  his  head,  nodded  his  long 
dark  plumes,  and  said  "quit-quit,  queeah,  queeah  !"  Zip] 
went  another  arrow  through  the  brush  just  by  his 
side.  He  said  again,  "  quit-quit-quit-quit !"  hopped  lei- 
surely off  the  brush,  and  started  off  with  a  "queeah, 
queeah  /"  to  join  his  companions.  The  bird  on  the  stone 
also  made  some  remarks  about  "  quitting,"  and  was 
preparing  to  suit  the  action  to  the  word,  when  another 
arrow  skipped  gayly  from  the  string,  and  Mortality 
knocked  at  the  lattice-door  of  his  little  ribs  in  a  way 
that  invited  an  immediate  response. 

An  arrow  that  scattered  the  pine-needles  among  the 
rest  of  the  flock  caused  a  decided  increase  in  their 
pace,  and  as  shaft  after  shaft  flying  wild  from  the 
archer's  now  trembling  hand  hissed  over  the  birds  or 
scattered  the  dirt  around  them,  they  broke  into  a  run 
and  some  flew  a  few  yards,  alighted,  and  then  ran 
again. 

"  Now  we  shall  have  to  scatter  them,"  said  Belville. 
•'  You  had  better  keep  quiet  and  let  me  do  it.  Hold 
Prince  back." 

Belville  started  on  a  run  after  the  birds,  while  Nor- 
ton collared  Prince  and  tried  to  hold  him.  He  dis- 
coursed most  touching  strains  "  to  the  rocks  and  rills, 
touching  the  tender  stops  of  various  quills,"  as  his 
master  ran  ahead  without  him.  The  quails  quickened 
their  pace  as  Belville  charged  on  them,  and  stuck  to 
their  legs  with  provoking  pertinacity  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, until  Belville  made  a  "spurt"  and  got  within 
ten  paces  of  them,  when  suddenly  the  air  was  filled 
with  buzzing  wings  and  wheeling  and  darting  streaks 


236         RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

of  blue,  white,  and  cinnamon.  Quickly  his  gun  came 
to  his  shoulder  and  covered  the  dark  green  shrub- 
bery of  a  manzanita  behind  which  a  bird  had  flown. 
The  gun  cracked  ;  a  shower  of  blue  and  cinnamon 
feathers  puffed  out  from  behind  the  bush ;  a  dull 
sound  of  a  falling  body  was  heard;  and  Norton  lay 
prone  upon  the  earth  ! 

As  he  picked  himself  up  and  brushed  the  pine- 
needles  out  of  his  sleeves,  he  announced  to  the  uni- 
verse at  large  his  intentions  of  sub-letting  all  future 
contracts  to  hold  a  dog  while  his  master  goes  ahead 
to  shoot. 

Prince  didn't  seem  at  all  inclined  to  object  to  this 
arrangement,  but  displayed  remarkable  equanimity 
as,  nearly  wagging  his  tail  off,  he  went  in  to  pick  up 
the  fallen  bird.  He  then  trotted  away  over  the 
ground  ahead  with  his  nose  in  the  air  and  his  tail 
vigorously  whipping  his  sides.  He  had  not  gone 
a  hundred  yards  when  his  pace  slackened.  So  did 
his  tail.  The  tail  got  slower  in  motion.  So  did  the 
legs.  The  legs  seemed  to  slacken  the  tail  and  the 
tail  to  react  upon  the  legs,  until  he  had  settled  down  to 
a  pace  suitable  for  a  fashionable  mourner  at  a  snail's 
funeral.  Then  he  stopped  altogether,  stood  for  a 
minute  with  his  eager  eyes  fixed  in  a  stony  gaze;  then 
he  turned  his  head  and  glanced  at  his  master. 

"  Come  on  quick,  now,  with  your  guns,"  said  Bel- 
ville.  "  These  birds  do  not  lie  long." 

As  Norton  came  up,  three  birds  rose  from  the  dead 
brush  ahead  of  Prince,  and  almost  at  the  first  buzz  of 
their  wings  his  gun  went  off  and  rent  the  raiment  of 


THE  MOUNTAIN  QUAIL.  237 

a  flourishing  young  manzanita  about  three  feet  to  one 
side  of  them.  One  of  the  birds  went  to  Belville's  side 
and  came  whirling  down  out  of  a  shower  of  feathers, 
while  another  plunged  like  a  wet  rag  into  a  pile  of 
rocks  at  the  crack  of  the  second  barrel.  The  birds 
were  soon  picked  up,  and  the  dog  sent  on. 

He  at  once  began  to  stiffen  and  crawl,  sniffing  the 
air  and  straightening  out  occasionally  into  a  dead 
point.  But  no  birds  rose. 

"  Too  slow  for  these  chaps,  Prince.  You  will  have 
to  go  faster,"  said  Belville,  as  he  started  ahead  of  the 
dog  on  a  rapid  walk.  "  Hie  on !  boy,  or  you'll  get 
left !" 

But  Prince  had  not  been  trained  upon  California 
quails,  and  followed  along  behind  as  if  he  had  a  bag 
of  shot  on  each  foot  and  his  tail  was  spliced  with  a 
poker.  By  running  and  cheering  him  on,  Belville 
soon  got  him  pretty  well  stirred  up,  and  he  over- 
took a  little  bunch  of  birds  that  had  hidden  in  a 
fallen  tree-top  when  they  saw  him  coming.  Belville 
went  to  one  side  of  the  tree  and  Norton  and  his  sister 
to  the  other,  while  Mrs.  Norton  was  to  look  for  the 
game  and  flush  it  with  an  arrow  when  visible.  Care- 
fully she  looked  into  the  brush,  but  there  was  no 
sound  or  sign  of  life  for  two  or  three  minutes;  then 
Laura  suddenly  drew  back,  and  with  a  vigorous  pull 
at  the  bow-string  sank  an  arrow  half  way  to  the 
feathers  in  the  white  and  brown  mold  on  a  rotten 
stump  beneath  the  brush.  As  the  arrow  chugged  into 
it,  a  "  quit-quit,  quee-ah  /"  was  heard  within,  and  Prince, 
who  had  been  standing  off  at  some  distance  ran  close 


238      RIFLE.   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

up,  turned  his  head  to  one  side,  crouched  low,  and, 
looking  intensely  anxious,  settled  down  stiff  as  marble. 

Belville  kicked  upon  the  opposite  side,  and  out 
came  four  birds,  whizzing  in  various  directions.  One 
came  down  before  the  combined  effect  of  a  heavy  bat- 
tery opened  by  Norton  and  his  sister,  and  another's 
machinery  was  deranged  by  a  shot  from  Belville. 

These  birds  were  soon  picked  up,  and  the  hunters 
started  for  the  rest  of  the  covey,  the  trail  of  which  the 
dog  soon  struck.  But  Norton  and  the  ladies  were  un- 
able to  follow  at  the  rate  required  to  overtake  them 
with  the  start  they  had  now  gained,  and  Belville  went 
swiftly  on  alone. 

NOTE. — The  mountain  quail  of  the  Pacific  slope  seems  to  be 
little  known  to  sportsmen.  I  have  seen  some  very  absurd  state- 
ments about  it  by  those  who  have  attempted  to  describe  it. 

It  is  not  "  twice  as  large  as  Bob  White." 

It  is  not  "very  fine  eating." 

It  is  not  "  extremely  rare." 

It  is  not  "extremely  wild  and  difficult  to  shoot." 

It  is  not  "  found  only  in  the  roughest  or  most  inaccessible  places." 

It  does  not  "  run  faster  than  the  valley  quail." 

I  am  fully  aware  that  it  would  have  made  a  far  better  subject  for 
a  good  chapter  if  these  things  had  been  true.  But  while  not  averse 
to  good  subjects,  my  main  object  is  accuracy,  and  I  describe  these 
birds  just  as  I  have  found  them. 

I  have  seen  them  only  in  their  natural  state,  and  not  as  they 
might  become  if  much  hunted.  But  I  have  not  only  hunted  them 
with  a  shot-gun,  but  have  time  and  again  met  them  when  deer- 
hunting,  and  have  sat  down  and  watched  them  until  the  last  one 
had  stolen  softly  away.  I  have  seen  them  often  so  close  and  uncon- 
cerned that  a  good  archer  could  kill  half  a  dozen  with  a  bow,  and 
it  is  no  trick  for  a  good  rifleman  to  decapitate  three  or  four  before 


THE  MOUNTAIN  QUAIL.  239 

they  leave.  I  do  not  know  what  they  may  be  in  the  North;  but 
in  Southern  California,  when  not  hunted,  they  are  the  very  em- 
bodiment of  guileless  simplicity. 

Owing  to  fuller  feathers  this  bird  looks  much  larger  than  Bob 
White,  but  is  only  a  mere  trifle  larger  in  body,  if  at  all.  In  flavor 
it  is  almost  exactly  like  the  valley  quail,  which  is  about  equal  to  a 
tolerable  grade  of  chicken.  Though  by  no  means  plenty,  it  is 
not  extremely  rare.  In  the  Cuyamaca  Mountain  I  once  saw  four 
coveys  without  leaving  the  road,  yet  they  are  by  no  means  abun- 
dant throughout  the  country  generally. 

It  is  not  quite  so  swift  a  flier  as  the  valley  quail,  although  swift 
enough.  I  have  found  it  in  good  easy  ground  to  hunt,  though  it 
generally  likes  rougher  ground  than  the  valley  quail.  I  have 
found  it  at  altitudes  as  low  as  one  thousand  feet  above  the  sea; 
though  I  believe  these  were  the  increase  of  escaped  tame  ones.  Its 
habitat  seems  to  be  above  four  thousand  feet. 

It  does  not  run  as  fast  as  the  valley  quail,  though  it  will  depend 
upon  running  much  longer,  and  is  much  harder  to  force  into  flight. 

It  is  very  easily  domesticated  and  makes  a  charming  pet,  though 
I  do  not  know  whether  it  will  breed  in  confinement. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

DEER-HUNTING. 

IS  this  a  hunt,  or  only  a  stroll  through  some  old 
English  park  ?  Head  to  head  in  silent  conclave 
stand  the  grand  old  oaks  as  they  have  stood  for  cen- 
turies. The  shady  ground  below  them  is  laid  with  a 
golden  carpet  of  fine  dry  grass.  Here  and  there  the 
ground  rolls  in  wavy  swells,  then  spreads  away  in 
little  flats,  then  sweeps  again  into  billowy  form.  On 
either  side  it  undulates  more  than  in  the  middle, 
and  finally  breaks  away  into  little  bluffs,  tables,  and 
benches,  with  gulches,  pockets,  and  ravines  between. 
On  these  benches  and  tables  the  large  oaks  begin  to 
dwindle  away  into  scrubby  oaks,  which  in  turn  fade 
into  oak-brush,  and  this  again  into  chaparral  of  vari- 
ous shades  of  green,  running  up  the  sides  of  the 
mountains  which  inclose  the  little  park.  In  various 
directions  run  paths  well  beaten  and  smooth,  on  one 
of  which  Belville  may  be  seen  strolling  lazily  along, 
while  Norton  is  tying  his  horse  a  little  way  behind. 

Norton  has  very  much  recovered  since  the  time  last 
chronicled  in  this  narrative;  but  he  still  keeps  his 
horse  near  him  in  hunting,  a  precaution  no  invalid 
should  neglect,  and  one  that  even  a  well  man  soon 
adopts  when  he  gets  acquainted  with  the  magnificent 


DEER-HUNTING.  241 

distances  of  California  and  its  vast  proportion  of  out- 
of-doors  to  the  acre. 

"  Do  you  see  that  track  ?"  asked  Belville,  pointing 
to  a  track  in  the  trail  like  a  cross  between  an  enor- 
mous human  foot  and  a  huge  misshapen  pancake. 

Norton  looked  for  a  moment,  and  a  cold  sweat 
started  all  over  him  as  he  looked  up  in  undisguised 
dismay. 

"You  needn't  be  alarmed.  He's  far  off  by  this 
time,  tucked  away  in  the  thick  brush  of  some  howl- 
ing cafion  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  travel  through 
except  on  hands  and  knees.  There  are  a  few  grizzlies 
left  in  Santa  Rosa,  and  this  is  one  of  the  biggest,  but 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  get  sight  of  them.  But  here 
are  the  tracks  I  care  most  about,"  he  added,  pointing 
to  some  sharp-toed-foot  prints  in  the  dry  old  cattle- 
trail  in  which  they  were  walking. 

San  Diego  is  not  a  "  deer  country,"  as  that  term  is 
generally  understood;  and,  from  all  that  can  be  gath- 
ered from  the  old  Spanish  residents,  it  never  has  been. 
There  are  too  many  acres  to  the  deer,  and  too  much 
land  to  the  acre.  Yet  for  him  who  knows  how  and 
where  to  hunt  them,  deer  are  abundant  enough  to 
furnish  good  sport.  And  it  is  doubtful  if  the  world 
can  show  easier  or  more  pleasant  still-hunting  than 
in  the  oak  canons  of  the  northern  part  of  San  Diego 
County,  at  the  time  of  year  when  the  deer  are  most 
numerous  in  them. 

This  favorable  time  is  generally  the  Autumn,  when 
the  acorns  are  ripe  on  the  scrub-oak  along  the  edges 


242      RIFLE,    ROD  AND    GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

of  the  canon,  and  hang  thick  on  the  low  sweeping 
branches  of  the  large  trees  in  the  middle  of  it,  or  fall 
pattering  from  their  tops. 

Autumn  in  this  country  is  only  a  palace-car  on  the 
long  train  of  summer  days.  On,  on,  on,  the  season 
rolls  until  about  the  middle  of  December,  when,  with- 
out jolt,  jerk,  or  jar,  the  traveler  is  suddenly  swung 
into  Spring,  for  that  is  what  Winter  really  amounts 
to  here.  Nature  dons  no  gorgeous  burial-robes.  The 
drowsy  ear  of  night  remains  unvexed  by  endless  dis- 
putes as  to  whether  Katy  did  or  didn't.  No  bobolink 
pipes  his  sad  farewell  above  our  heads.  No  bloody 
sun  struggles  down  through  smoky  air.  No  maple 
or  gum  tree  flames  in  crimson;  no  beech  or  hickory 
wears  a  golden  crown;  no  oak  puts  on  its  russet  man- 
tle. Here  and  there  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  season 
the  sycamores  or  cottonwoods  along  the  river-bottoms 
begin  to  furl  their  green  banners  for  a  few  weeks,  and 
the  grape-vine's  bright  green  fades  for  a  while.  But 
the  hills  hang  out  no  gaudy  standards  of  decay,  and 
their  velvet  vests  of  checkered  green  show  no  sign  of 
change.  The  serpentine  trail  of  the  canon  is  still 
filled  with  glistening  green  ;  the  old  oaks  shine  as 
brightly  as  ever ;  the  sun  rolls  daily  through  un- 
clouded skies;  the  air  grows  even  drier  than  in  sum- 
mer; the  crimson  of  the  sunset  deepens  in  the  valleys, 
and  the  peaks  glow  at  evening  with  a  deeper  purple. 
If  Nature  has  not  spilt  her  paint-pots  over  our  land- 
scape, she  has  also  sent  no  blustering  scouts  of  Win- 
ter to  buffet  our  ears;  and  if  she  has  withheld  the 
sentimental  haze  of  Indian  Summer,  she  has  at  the 


DEER-HUNTING.  243 

same  time  withheld  the  scowling  sky  and  chilly  breath 
that  in  other  lands  too  quickly  arouse  the  Indian- 
Summer  dreamer. 

Norton  had  been  wise  enough  to  stay  and  finish  off 
the  recovery  that  had  plainly  begun,  and  Belville,  ap- 
pearing to  be  as  glad  as  any  one  about  his  improve- 
ment, had  still  remained  with  the  pajty. 

With  easy  sauntering  pace,  but  with  keen  and  rest- 
less eyes,  they  strolled  along  the  smooth  paths,  peer- 
ing around  the  corners  of  the  gulches  and  scrutinizing 
the  dark  green  recesses  of  the  pockets.  Suddenly 
Belville  stopped,  and,  pointing  far  away  down  a  vista 
among  the  trees,  exclaimed,  as  he  dropped  out  of 
sight, 

"  There  is  a  deer  lying  down  under  yonder  big  live- 
oak  !  Take  off  your  hat  and  rise  up  carefully,  and 
see  if  you  don't  make  out  a  pair  of  ears." 

A  cautious  inspection  showed  Norton  two  dark 
points  like  fine  inverted  "  V's  "  in  plain  relief  against 
the  yellow  background  of  grass.  Presently,  what  at 
first  glance  appeared  to  be  a  piece  of  dead  log  de- 
veloped into  a  head  with  trim  tapering  nose  and  a  bit 
of  graceful  neck  beneath  it.  And  what  had  seemed 
to  be  only  a  dark  shadow  turned  out  to  be  a  body  ;  for 
these  deer  at  this  time  of  year  are  dark  gray  in  color. 
While  Norton  and  Belville  were  still  looking,  the  head 
was  suddenly  turned  directly  toward  them. 

"  Keep  still  and  don't  move  !"  said  Belville.  "  They 
cannot  make  out  our  heads  from  so  far  if  we  don't 
move  them." 


244         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

The  turning  of  the  distant  head  brought  into  view 
another  trim  little  nose  and  the  delicate  point  of  one 
ear,  just  visible  on  the  other  side  of  the  first  one,  and 
lying  near  it. 

"  There  is  a  big  fawn  beside  her,"  said  Belville. 
"  Now  there  is  as  fine  a  chance  to  shoot  a  deer  as  you 
will  be  likely  ever  to  get.  You  take  my  rifle  and  try 
hen  Do  you  see  yonder  little  ridge  that  juts  out 
toward  them,  and  is  covered  along  its  back  with 
scrub-oak  brush  ?  If  you  can  make  the  point  of  that 
you  can  get  a  splendid  shot.  You  can  reach  it  easily, 
but  it  will  take  you  some  time  to  do  it  with  the  care 
that  is  necessary  to  make  sure  of  a  shot.  So  the  first 
thing  to  recollect  is  that  there  is  positively  no  haste. 
Those  deer  are  good  for  two  hours  where  they  are,  and 
even  if  they  were  not,  you  might  lose  more  by  haste 
than  you  would  gain.  Back  out  of  here  now,  and 
swing  around  into  that  next  little  canon  to  the  right. 
Go  to  the  head  of  it,  and  there  you  will  undoubtedly 
find  an  old  cattle-trail  that  leads  over  the  next  ridge 
and  around  the  head  of  the  next  little  cafion.  But, 
whether  you  do  that  or  not,  cross  the  heads  of  the 
cafions  until  you  get  on  to  the  ridge  that  leads  out  to 
where  the  deer  are.  Get  on  the  back  side  of  it,  keep 
out  of  sight,  and  go  as  quietly  as  you  can  possibly 
move  until  you  get  behind  the  last  bush  on  the  point. 
Then  lay  your  rifle  under  the  bush,  and  try  and  shoot 
from  under  it  without  showing  any  part  of  yourself. 
If  you  do  this  carefully,  they  will  be  more  sure  to 
stand  in  case  you  miss  the  first  shot  or  two.  But 
whatever  you  do,  remember  above  all  things  to  take 


DEER-HUNTING.  245 

a  fine  sight  and  shoot  low  down  on  the  body,  or  you 
will  be  apt  to  overshoot." 

Taking  Belville's  rifle,  Norton  started,  and  going 
slowly,  so  as  neither  to  tire  himself  nor  make  a  noise, 
he  reached  in  about  half  an  hour  the  point  of  the 
ridge  that  ran  out  towards  the  deer.  Raising  his 
head  very  cautiously  behind  the  bush,  he  at  length 
saw,  about  sixty  or  seventy  yards  away,  the  old  one 
with  head  raised,  her  long  ears  pricked  up  atten- 
tively, and  chewing  her  cud.  The  young  fawn  by  her 
side  was  still  in  the  same  position  as  when  first  seen. 
But  Norton  now  discovered  another  fawn  beyond  the 
deer  lying  with  its  head  turned  over  upon  its  side, 
apparently  dozing. 

From  the  time  Belville  first  showed  him  the  ears 
and  suggested  his  trying  their  owner  with  his  rifle, 
Norton  had  recognized  some  serious  demoralization 
in  his  capillary  harmony.  But  when  he  looked 
through  the  bush  and  saw  the  shapely  forms  of 
glossy  dark  gray,  the  long  mulish  ears,  and  the  trim 
black  and  gray  noses  pointed  towards  him,  every 
hair  on  his  head  felt  as  though  it  were  raging  in 
deathly  struggle  with  its  neighbors. 

"  Pshaw  !  I  have  plenty  of  time.  I  will  be  cool," 
he  thought. 

It  is  very  easy  for  the  mind  to  legislate  for  the 
nerves.  But  it  is  quite  another  thing  for  the  mind  to 
enforce  its  edicts.  Norton  discovered  this  when, 
after  waiting  about  five  minutes  to  cool  down,  he 
began  to  raise  his  rifle.  As  he  brought  the  sights  up 
in  line  with  the  glossy  chest  that,  with  the  legs  folded 


246          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

beneath  it,  formed  so  plain  a  mark,  a  deluge  of 
shivers  flooded  his  back  and  his  hand  trembled  so 
that  he  could  not  shoot  even  with  the  rifle  rested  on 
the  ground. 

But  Norton  was  naturally  cool  and  collected  ;  he 
cared  nothing  for  the  nonsensical,  imaginary  glory  of 
killing  a  deer,  and  he  had  none  of  the  base  sensations 
that  thrill  the  ordinary  meat-hunter. 

He  remembered  what  Belville  had  said  about  hav- 
ing time  enough,  and  resolved  not  to  throw  away  a 
good  chance  by  a  little  excitement  which  would  soon 
pass  off.  He  therefore  lay  and  watched  them  some 
fifteen  minutes,  trying  all  the  time  to  persuade  him- 
self that  he  would  not  give  a  cent  to  shoot  the  whole 
three.  And  in  this  he  so  far  succeeded  that  his 
nerves  soon  reached  a  delightful  state  of  composure. 

Again  he  looked  along  the  sights,  and  now  at  last 
he  was  cool.  What  in  hunting  is  more  delightful  than 
that  calmness,  born  of  confidence  and  not  of  indiffer- 
ence, with  which  the  rifle-hunter  raises  the  sights 
upon  large  game,  knowing  that  success  is  dashed  with 
sufficient  uncertainty  to  require  the  best  of  care,  yet 
exulting  in  his  own  skill  to  accomplish  it  ?  Yet  what 
in  rifle-hunting  is  more  brilliantly  illusive  than  that 
same  confidence  when  it  first  begins  to  dawn  after  the 
dark  night  of  uncontrollable  nervousness  ? 

Norton  now  saw  the  sights  full  and  clear  upon  the 
shining  breast  of  the  mother-deer,  and  with  exultant 
soul  he  pressed  the  light  trigger.  Swift  as  the  ham- 
mer falls  under  the  loosened  spring,  so  swiftly  under 
the  spring  ot  three  sets  of  steel-like  legs,  loosened  by 


DEER-HUNTING.  247 

the  report  of  the  rifle,  the  three  gray  bodies  bounded 
fifteen  feet  into  the  air  at  the  first  jump.  They  landed 
at  the  three  points  of  a  triangle,  and  the  graceful 
forms  stood  for  a  moment,  the  bright  eyes  and  ears 
all  attention,  as  they  looked  at  the  trees  and  hills 
around  them,  and  then  at  each  other. 

Again  Norton  drew  the  sights  upon  the  doe's  breast 
and  pulled.  Bang!  went  the  rifle,  and  bump !  went 
the  simultaneous  stroke  of  twelve  hoofs  upon  the  hard 
dry  ground,  as  from  the  three  points  of  the  triangle 
in  which  they  stood  the  three  jumped  at  one  bound 
to  the  center.  They  stood  there  together,  one  fawn 
looking  over  its  mother's  back  and  the  other  standing 
under  her  neck,  but  all  looking  and  listening  with, 
trembling  curiosity. 

Again  Norton  drew,  as  he  supposed,  a  cool  sight 
and  fired;  the  ball  like  the  others  whizzed  harmlessly  a 
foot  or  two  above  the  mark,  and  again  the  three  deer 
shot  outward  with  simultaneous  bound.  One  stopped 
at  the  first  jump;  another  took  three  or  four  jumps; 
the  third  a  dozen;  and  then  all  stopped  again. 

Thus  deer  often  act  that  have  never  seen  man  or 
heard  the  music  of  his  rifle.  And  thus  often  acts  the 
man  who  makes  his  first  effort  on  them  with  the  rifle. 
The  deer  were  confused  by  the  echo  from  the  hills, 
and,  seeing  nothing,  knew  not  which  way  to  run,  even 
if  they  thought  there  was  any  necessity  for  running 
at  all.  And  Norton,  getting  more  and  more  confused 
by  the  consciousness  that  he  was  doing  his  best  and 
yet  failing,  yielded  more  and  more  to  that  fatal  delu- 
sion which  often  makes  even  experienced  riflemen 


248        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

uncertain  on  a  down-hill  shot.  And  as  faster  and 
faster  he  dispensed  the  singing  lead  at  the  retreating 
deer,  higher  and  higher  it  flew  above  them,  until  the 
last  bullet  of  the  repeater  was  gone,  and  the  last  gray 
rump  was  undulating  away  in  the  edge  of  the  cha- 
parral on  the  other  side  of  the  valley.  And  then  for 
the  first  time  he  happened  to  recall  Belville's  last  ad- 
vice about  shooting  low  And  taking  a  fine  sight — a 
caution  he  had  utterly  forgotten. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Belville consolingly,  as  he  came 
up  with  Norton's  horse.  "It  will  all  be  the  same  a 
hundred  years  hence.  And  you  will  have  another 
chance  before  we  are  through  with  this  country." 

They  sat  down  and  took  a  smoke  in  the  breezy 
shade,  and  then,  with  Norton  riding  well  in  the  rear, 
so  as  to  make  no  noise,  and  Belville  well  ahead  as 
scout,  they  started  on. 

For  an  hour  or  more  they  sauntered  along  the  old 
trail,  looking  with  eager  eyes  down  the  shady  vistas 
of  yellow  and  green,  and  into  every  opening  in  the 
hills  on  either  side.  Already  the  slope  upon  the  west- 
ern side  of  the  valley  was  shading  into  a  bluish 
haze,  the  air  began  to  feel  cooler,  the  breeze  began  to 
fail  a  trifle,  and  a  shadow  crept  slowly  up  the  slope  on 
the  east.  Evening  was  coming  on  ;  the  deer  would 
soon  be  afoot;  a  sharper  watch  must  be  kept.  Some- 
thing must  also  be  done  pretty  soon  unless  they 
wished  to  return  empty-handed  to  camp. 

The  mountain-peak  on  the  right  was  purpling  fast, 
and  they  had  decided  to  turn  back  toward  camp  when, 
at  Belville's  suggestion,  they  decided  on  a  last  look 


DEER-HUNTING.  249 

around  the  corner  of  a  little  projecting  ridge  that  lay 
before  them. 

"  Thanks  to  the  man  who  invented  the  last  chance  ! 
It's  the  last  slippery  log  in  the  slippery  path  of  the 
still-hunter  from  which  he  often  slides  head  first  into 
a  perfect  mire  of  good  luck,"  said  Belville  to  himself, 
as,  peering  cautiously  around  the  ridge  into  a  gulch, 
•  his  eye  caught  sight  of  a  small  white  spot  in  a  bush, 
a  dark  gray  bit  of  shiny  fur  a  few  yards  farther  on 
and  a  few  feet  to  one  side,  and  he  saw  a  couple  of 
glistening  points  rise  from  the  chaparral,  and  below 
them  several  more  similar  points. 

He  backed  down  and  returned  to  Norton  as  quickly 
as  possible,  and  said, 

"  There  are  three,  and  perhaps  more,  in  there.  One 
is  a  big  buck  and  must  be  absorbed  by  all  means.  Tie 
your  horse  here  and  slip  up  this  little  cafion  and  hide 
on  the  end  of  this  side  ridge,  and  don't  move  unless 
something  comes.  I'll  go  around  on  the  other  side 
and  let  them  know  we  have  arrived.  They  will  prob- 
ably come  this  way,  and  you  can  have  a  good  chance 
to  bid  them  farewell." 

Keeping  in  the  dry  bed  of  a  little  creek,  Belville 
passed  the  mouth  of  the  canon  in  which  the  deer  were, 
without  danger  of  being  seen  by  them.  He  then 
passed  into  the  next  little  cafion,  and  up  the  ridge  that 
lay  between  it  and  the  one  in  which  the  deer  had  been 
seen.  Moving  cautiously  up  the  ridge,  he  came  at 
length  in  sight  of  the  bottom  of  the  cafion,  and  his 
eye  rested  at  once  upon  the  lithe  body  and  dandy  legs 
of  a  sleek  young  "  spike"-buck  (a  yearling  buck)  that, 


250      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

with  head  erect  and  ears  pricked  forward  and  out- 
ward, seemed  to  think  he  discovered  something.  At 
the  same  time,  just  beyond  him,  the  glistening  points 
that  Belville  had  noticed  before  came  surging  up  out 
of  the  chaparral,  accompanied  by  the  gray  tips  of 
another  pair  of  ears. 

The  reader  has  seen  that  with  all  his  faults,  Belville 
was  not  swinish  about  game  or  fish.  But  as  there  is 
a  little  strabismus  in  the  straightest  of  moral  optics,  so 
is  there  an  ineradicable  tarnish  of  greed  on  the  bright- 
est shield  that  culture  and  a  native  sense  of  propriety 
can  throw  before  our  brute  nature;  and  we  must  all 
plead  guilty  to  the  weakness  of  preferring  a  big  buck 
to  a  small  one.  This  weakness  captured  at  the  first 
dash  the  sound  principles  that  Belville  approved  most 
thoroughly  in  the  abstract:  never  to  take  a  shot  with 
the  rifle  at  a  dim  or.  uncertain  mark  when  you  have 
a  clear  and  distinct  one,  even  though  the  latter  be 
inferior  game.  With  a  contemptuous  glance  at  the 
spike-buck,  he  drew  a  sight  about  six  inches,  as  he 
thought,  below  the  tips  of  the  second  pair  of  ears, 
which  he  could  easily  see  must  belong  to  an  unusually 
fine  buck,  and  fired. 

A  distinct  whack  such  as  a  bullet  would  make  on 
a  heavy  skull  came  back  to  him;  there  was  a  heavy 
crash  and  smash,  together  with  a  bump,  bump,  bump  • 
the  spike-buck,  a  doe,  and  two  large  fawns  went 
plunging  out  of  the  head  of  the  gulch  ;  while  a  vigor- 
ous kicking  and  thrashing  of  brush  went  on  in  the 
place  where  the  big  buck  had  stood.  Belville  hasten- 
ed the  speed  of  the  others  with  a  wild  bullet  or 


DEER-HUNTING.  251 

two,  and  then  dashed  down  the  hill  and  into  the 
brush  where  his  buck  had  fallen  and  had  now  ceased 
struggling.  In  he  walked  with  rifle  on  his  shoulder  ; 
yet  all  was  still  but  the  echo  of  Norton's  gun  bellowing 
back  and  forth  among  the  hills.  Belville  felt  spread- 
ing over  him  a  glow  of  happiness  such  as  he  only 
knows  who  has  been  in  his  place. 

But  suddenly  there  was  a  long-drawn  hollow-toned 
"phew!"  about  twenty  yards  from  him,  a  crash  of 
brush  and  the  stroke,  not  of  bounding,  but  of  fast- 
running  hoofs,  moving  with  stumbling  and  erratic 
pace,  but  still  running  and  smashing  rapidly  away 
through  the  brush.  Belville  fired  a  vain  shot  or  two 
in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  then  went  to  look 
where  his  buck  had  fallen.  There  were  the  marks  of 
scuffling  feet,  the  signs  of  a  fall  and  a  struggle  on  the 
dry  ground,  but  no  sign  of  blood. 

Belville  stood  for  a  moment,  puzzled,  and  was 
about  to  go,  knowing  how  vain  is  the  pursuit  of  a 
wounded  deer  in  chaparral  without  a  good  dog,  and 
sometimes  even  with  one,  when  he  suddenly  saw 
something  among  the  bushes.  He  stooped  and  drew 
out  the  single  horn  of  a  large  deer.  It  was  shivered 
to  pieces  at  the  very  base,  and  told  the  story  too 
plainly. 

The  buck,  hearing  Norton's  shots,  had  turned  and 
gone  down  the  ridge  toward  the  main  valley.  About 
this  time,  Reche  of  Fall  Brook  and  another  hunter, 
whose  name,  in  modern  Latin,  is  nullum  tui  negotii, 
were  coming  down  the  valley.  Reche  had  a  yellow 
Scotch  terrier  tied  to  his  waist  with  a  bit  of  rope — a 


252      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

good  way  to  keep  a  dog  from  "  breaking  shot "  pro- 
vided he  is  not  big  enough  to  break  his  master.  Hear- 
ing the  shots,  they  had  naturally  hastened  to  get  in 
the  way  of  being  run  over  by  anything  that  might 
feel  inclined  that  way.  They  had  just  reached  a  point 
opposite  the  end  of  the  ridge,  and,  hearing  the  crack- 
ling of  brush,  had  stopped,  when  the  buck  burst 
from  the  brush  along  the  top  of  the  ridge  and,  with 
its  head  laid  back,  came  tearing  at  full  speed  down 
the  slope  directly  towards  them. 

Diego,  the  dog,  straightened  the  -rope  and  gave  a 
yelp  ;  the  waist-band  to  which  the  rope  was  tied  gave 
way  with  a  rip  ;  a  bullet  plowed  the  hill-side  behind 
and  above  the  deer,  another  fanned  his  tail  with  its 
cooling  breeze  just  as  he  turned  short  around  with 
dog  and  rope  flying  towards  him.  Reche  recovered 
the  symmetry  of  his  back-bone  just  in  time  to  scollop 
the  bark  of  a  live-oak  monarch  behind  the  fast-scud- 
ding racer  at  the  same  time  that  a  ball  from  his  com- 
panion's rifle  sped  through  its  lungs. 

The  lungs  of  the  tree,  that  is.  For  the  deer's  white 
rump  dissolved  in  the  chaparral 

"  Like  the  snow-flake  in  the  river, 
A  moment  white,  then  gone  forever," 

with  Diego  yelping  far  in  his  rear,  leaving  Reche  and 
tne  other,  each  declaring  that  he  had  shot  off  a  horn, 
but  both  taking  particular  pains  not  to  look  for  it. 

Then  there  came  a  call  from  Norton.  While  the 
other  deer  were  bounding  through  the  chaparral  up 
the  hill,  he  had  disencumbered  himself  of  two  buck- 


DEER-HUNTING.  253 

shot  cartridges  that  he  had  got  weary  of  carrying  and 
putting  in  and  taking  out  of  his  gun.  And  though  it 
was  a  long  shot  he  made,  he  was  sure  he  saw  a  deer 
stumble. 

Belville  went  to  look,  and  found  marks  of  a  fall  and 
a  few  drops  of  blood,  and  called  to  Reche  to  bring  the 
dog.  Diego  was  finally  retrieved  from  a  bush  in 
which  he  had  tangled  his  rope,  and  taken  to  the  place 
where  Norton's  deer  had  fallen.  In  a  moment  he  had 
the  scent,  and  bounded  away  up  the  hill  with  sharp 
yelps.  He  had  gone  a  hundred  yards  or  more,  when 
the  yelps  doubled  in  intensity  and  frequency,  a  crack 
and  crash  of  brush  was  heard,  and  soon  the  chaparral 
was  parting  and  smashing  in  a  line  down  the  hill, 
towards  another  gulch.  Down,  down,  down,  goes 
the  racket,  not  with  the  regular  bump,  bump,  bump  of 
springing  legs,  but  with  a  crashing  discord  of  break- 
ing brush,  yelping  dog,  and  stumbling  hoofs 

Down  they  go  into  the  bottom  of  the  gulch,  where 
the  nimble  terrier  seizes  by  one  of  his  long  ears  the 
deer,  which  now  turns  out  to  be  the  spike-buck  that 
had  first  been  seen.  In  a  twinkling  the  dog  is  shaken 
off,  and  as  he  is  thrown  against  the  side  of  a  bank  he 
narrowly  escapes  impalement  by  one  of  the  sharp 
spike-horns.  But  Diego  is  like  hope  in  the  bosom 
of  a  mining-stock  verdant.  He  bounds  again  and 
again  anchors  his  teeth  in  the  ear.  The  sharp  hind 
hoof  of  the  deer  tickles  his  ribs  with  a  thump  that 
sends  him  whirling  to  earth  once  more.  With  hair 
erect  and  bright  green  eyes  glaring  savagely,  the  buck 
stands  at  bay,  and,  as  the  dog  gathers  himself,  he 


254      RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

makes  a  thrust  with  his  sharp  horns  that  would 
suffice  to  finish  a  much  larger  dog.  But  the  plucky 
little  terrier  dodges  and,  before  the  deer  can  recover 
for  another  charge,  catches  him  a  third  time  by  one 
ear.  And  there  he  dangles  for  a  moment  as  the  buck 
tries  to  shake  him  off,  lets  go  with  a  yelp  as  another 
hoof  fondles  his  ribs,  then  grabs  again  just  as  a  rifle- 
ball  pacifies  the  savage  buck  forever. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

DEER    IN    THE    OPEN    HILLS. 

IN  the  north-eastern  corner  of  Don  Juan  Forster's 
great  ranch  the  Santa  Margarita  winds  its  way 
through  high  and  rugged  hills.  Their  sides  are  cleft 
with  cafions  and  gulches,  and  their  tops  break  away 
into  basins,  pockets,  ridges,  and  small  peaks,  more  or 
less  begemmed  with  the  solid  granite  jewels  of  the 
land  and  half-dressed  in  tattered  robes  of  chaparral. 

Up  one  of  these  canons,  on  a  trail  made  by  cattle 
that  had  never  felt  the  riata  or  the  branding-iron,  and 
that  surpassed  the  deer  in  wildness,  Belville  and  Nor- 
ton on  horseback  were  winding  their  way.  Reaching 
the  top,  their  eyes  wandered  over  miles  of  rolling 
rubbish,  green,  gray,  brown,  yellow,  black,  and  bluish, 
everything  lying  in  wild  disorder,  stacked,  packed, 
jammed,  and  crammed  as  if  Nature  knew  not  how  to 
get  it  all  stowed  away.  Here  and  there  the  vast  area 
was  cut  by  long  cafions,  filled  with  winding  green, 
which,  splitting  into  branches,  encircled  the  waist  of 
some  somber  peak  ;  and  deep  ravines  yawned  with 
bottoms  also  of  timber  or  chaparral.  Everywhere 
was  the  everlasting  boulder.  Yet  almost  every  point 
and  pass,  basin  and  gulch,  was  connected  by  the  trails 
of  cattle  ;  for  the  California  breed  are  at  home  on  the 
wildest  and  most  rugged  hills, 


256      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"  Here,  you  see,  are  deer-tracks,"  said  Belville,  point- 
ing to  several  in  the  trail. 

"  I  declare  !  There  are  about  a  dozen,"  exclaimed 
Norton. 

"Yes,"  said  Belville,  "just  a  dozen — hoofs.  But 
only  three  deer :  a  doe  and  two  fawns.  You  make 
the  common  mistake  of  counting  a  deer  to  every  foot- 
print." 

The  trail  wound  around  the  heads  of  two  or  three 
little  gulches  and  the  breast  of  a  little  peak,  and  then 
descended  into  a  basin  about  two  hundred  yards  wide 
and  a  hundred  feet. deep.  The  bottom  of  the  basin 
was  cut  up  into  little  ravines  and  pockets,  with  an 
abundance  of  boulder,  brush,  and  chaparral. 

"  It  is  too  early  in  the  day  for  deer  to  be  on  foot 
yet,"  said  Belville,  after  a  careful  survey  of  the  bot- 
tom and  sides  of  the  basin.  "And  it  is  extremely 
probable  that  those  deer  whose  tracks  we  saw  are 
lying  down  in  there.  Or  they  may  even  be  standing 
up  ;  for  they  can  almost  keep  out  of  sight  in  brush  a 
yard  high,  unless  they  move  or  the  sun  happens  to 
shine  on  their  jackets.  We  had  better  leave  our 
horses  here,  for  if  they  are  in  there  they  will  be  sure 
to  hear  and  see  us  when  we  go  down  into  the  basin  ; 
and  if  once  they  start,  they'll  stop  for  nothing." 

They  tied  their  horses,  and  Belville  went  around  by 
a  circuitous  route  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  basin, 
and  took  a  position  on  a  rock  commanding  the 
two  trails,  on  one  of  which  he  thought  the  deer  were 
most  likely  to  come  out.  Norton  then  began  a 
cautious  descent  into  the  basin  through  a  gulch  at 


DEER  IN   THE   OPEN  HILLS.  257 

the  side.  He  reached  the  bottom  and  took  an  old 
trail  leading  up  the  middle.  With  the  stealthy  tread 
he  had  seen  Belville  use,  he  sneaked  along  with  watch- 
ful eye,  thinking  himself  a  pretty  smart  chap,  after  all, 
-  for  a  city  verdant,  who  knew  a  trick  or  two  about 
hunting,  wheji  his  blood  was  suddenly  curdled  by  an 
unexpected  apparition. 

About  twenty  yards  from  him,  on  a  quite  open 
slope,  all  at  once  he  saw  a  big  gray  doe,  with  a  fawn 
on  each  side  above  and  below  and  a  little  behind  her. 
Six  great  flaring  ears  of  light  gray,  six  eyes  of 
bluish  black,  and  three  black  muzzles  were  all  aimed 
directly  at  him.  He  was  shot  through  and  through 
with  amazement.  "Where  in  the  world  did  they 
come  from  so  suddenly?  How  could  I  have  missed 
seeing  them  before ?  Aren't  they  beauties?"  These 
questions  skipped  through  his  mind  without  waiting  for 
answers ;  for  all  were  swamped  in  the  great  and 
delightful  thought :  "And  how  close  !" 

The  two  fawns  took  a  step  ahead  of  the  mother  and 
stopped.  Norton  raised  his  gun.  It  was  loaded  with 
buckshot  wire  cartridges,  and  a  faint  pang  flitted 
across  his  tender  heart  as  he  thought  of  the  havoc 
they  would  make  among  those  pretty  innocents. 
Better  feelings  almost  triumphed  as  he  thought  that 
the  camp  could  not  use  such  an  immense  amount  of 
meat  after  he  had  killed  them  ;  but  then  he  thought 
of  some  rabbit-fed  settlers  near  by,  and  concluded 
that  he  might  play  almoner  of  Heaven  to  advantage. 

One  of  the  great  beauties  of  hunting  is  the  grand 
opportunity  it  gives  to  the  play  of  the  highest  facul- 


258      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

ties.  Norton  might  have  passed  through  life  without 
thinking  of  the  stupendous  paradox  that  one  may 
often  bag  more  by  aiming  at  nothing  than  by  aiming 
at  something.  But  no  sooner  did  he  see  the  two 
fawns  step  out  ahead  of  the  mother,  with  a  strip  of 
light  between  the  back  of  the  lowest  and  the  belly  of 
the  highest  one,  than  he  saw,  with  that  transcendent 
power  of  judgment  which  only  such  occasions  can 
develop,  that  he  could  bag  both  by  aiming  between 
them.  For  this  delightful  contingency  Messrs.  Eley 
&  Bros.,  of  London,  neglected  to  provide  when  they 
made  their  buckshot  wire  cartridges — a  very  great 
piece  of  carelessness  on  their  part  which  once  cost  a 
hunter  three  wild  turkeys  he  hoped  to  get  at  one  shot 
by  firing  at  a  hole  between  them — and  hit  it ! 

So  Norton,  like  that  brilliant  and  greedy  youth  (as 
the  aforesaid  hunter  then  was),  was  ignorant  of  the 
fact  that  these  cartridges  often  go  like  a  bullet  for 
many  yards  before  breaking.  And  when  he  took  a 
cool  aim  at  that  strip  of  light  between  the  fawns,  and 
sent  a  cartridge  whizzing  straight  at  it,  he  very  natu- 
rally looked  astonished  as  he  saw  the  dirt  fly  from  the 
dry  bank  beyond,  and  beheld  the  three  deer  spring 
unharmed  high  into  the  air  and  ricochet  with  airy 
lightness  up  the  slope. 

But  then,  what  of  it  ?  We  don't  want  but  one,  any- 
how. They  are  still  within  easy  distance  ;  and  who 
ever  missed  a  deer  with  buckshot?  Something  like 
this  flashed  through  his  mind  as  he  raised  the  other 
barrel  on  the  big  doe,  and  saw  the  curl  of  her  white 
and  gray  rump  just  in  line  with  it.  He  pulled  the 


DEER   IN    THE   OPEN  HILLS.  259 

trigger  and  sixteen  buckshot  whizzed  directly  to 
where  the  doe  was,  while  she  struck  the  ground  some 
distance  beyond,  after  leaping  through  the  space 
nearly  a  yard  above  where  she  had  stood  when  he 
pulled  the  trigger.  The  trio  waltzed  over  a  ridge 
near  by,  the  last  little  black  tail  fading  out  of  sight 
just  as  the  discomfited  Norton  got  his  gun  snapped 
shut  on  two  more  cartridges.  Whereupon  he  deliv- 
ered himself  of  some  wisdom  to  the  effect  that  a  deer 
is  accompanied  by  more  circumambient  space  than 
anything  else  in  creation.  Which  the  same  is  here- 
with most  cordially  indorsed. 

Belville's  face  was  illumined  with  joy  as  he  heard 
the  two  shots  from  Norton's  gun,  and  fairly  blazed 
with  delight  as  he  heard  the  inspiring  bump,  bump, 
bump  on  the  hard  ground  coming  closer.  He  looked 
out  from  behind  his  rock  and  saw  a  beautiful  fawn, 
large  and  sleek,  come  bounding  up  the  trail.  Just  as 
he  raised  his  rifle,  the  old  lady  herself  leaped  into 
view  with  the  other  baby  skipping  high  behind  her. 
With  magnanimity  unparalleled  Belville  let  the  fawn 
pass,  and  raised  his  rifle  on  the  old  dame.  It  is  sad 
to  find  the  brilliancy  of  apparently  noble  motives  turn 
out  to  be  only  the  tinsel  of  a  false  pretense.  Yet  can- 
dor compels  the  statement  that  Belville  meant  to 
invert  the  old  one,  in  order  that  when  her  heels 
should  kick  at  heaven  instead  of  spurning  earth,  her 
loving  offspring  might  tarry  to  see  what  was  the 
matter,  and  thus  give  him  a  good  chance  to  inform 
them. 

On  came  the  doe,  glancing  so  high  from  the  ground 


260          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

at  each  touch  of  her  fairy  feet  that  Belville,  after  a 
few  vain  attempts  to  tell  where  she  was  going  to 
strike  next  and  get  his  sights  trained  on  that  spot, 
took  down  the  rifle  and  said,  "  Maa!" 

This  did  not  appear  to  be  any  news  to  her;  so  she 
kept  on,  and  he  called  out  " Maa!"  again,  in  a  louder 
tone.  This  stopped  the  foremost  fawn,  and  as  Belville 
raised  his  rifle  on  that  one  so  as  to  make  sure  of 
something,  the  old  one  stopped  to  see  what  the  fawn 
was  doing.  She  looked  so  much  larger  that  Belville 
shifted  the  sights  upon  her.  Just  as  he  pulled  the 
trigger  she  rose,  and  the  ball  shaved  the  hair  of  her 
chest  just  back  of  the  fore-legs.  Full  fifteen  feet  she 
went  at  the  first  spring,  bounded  four  or  five  feet  into 
the  air  at  the  next  touch,  and  landed  in  the  head  of  a 
little  brushy  ravine;  when,  before  Belville  could  load 
again  his  swift-firing  repeater,  the  lofty  head  and 
graceful  neck  were  lowered,  the  high  rolling  rump 
vanished,  and  in  the  head  of  this  little  ravine,  scarcely 
two  feet  deep,  and  in  brush  scarcely  three  feet  high, 
the  billowy  beauty  had  disappeared. 

But  the  hindmost  fawn  was  still  in  sight,  curving 
high  among  the  rocks  and  bushes  and  fast  careering 
towards  the  place  where  the  mother  skulked  away.  In 
another  moment  he  too  will  reach  it,  and  he  too 
knows  right  well  how  to  sneak  out  of  sight  in  brush 
hardly  big  enough  to  hide  a  rabbit.  But  Belville  is 
following  his  course,  with  the  rifle  held  well  ahead  of 
him,  and  now,  as  he  descends  from  an  arching  spring, 
the  sights  are  held  four  or  five  feet  ahead  of  him  and 
fully  two  feet  below.  The  bang! — lump ! — spat! — are 


DEER  JN   THE    OPEN  HILLS.  261 

simultaneous;  for  the  deer  reaches  ground  just  as  the 
bullet  gets  there  and  his  shoulders  are  square  in  its 
path. 

Two  more  hours  slide  down  the  hill  of  time,  never 
again  to  draw  up  their  sleds,  and  Belville,  half  a  mile 
from  the  scene  of  his  last  performance,  is  trying  to 
slide  himself  down  a  sloping  face  of  rock  so  as  to  get 
into  a  trail  that  will  bring  him  fifty  yards  nearer  to  a 
dark  shiny  spot  in  the  brush  three  hundred  yards 
away.  The  silver  sheen  of  the  still  visible  ocean  is 
changing  fast  into  burnished  gold  ;  the  distant  peaks 
of  gray  and  green  are  reddening  fast  into  carmine  and 
purple;  the  tide  of  crimson  haze  begins  to  flow  up 
the  western  valleys;  the  soft  green  of  the  chaparral 
on  the  eastern  slopes  begins  to  darken  into  blue,  and 
on  the  western  slopes  to  glow  with  brighter  green; 
the  bee  is  humming  on  his  homeward  way;  and  the 
roaring  wings  of  hundreds  of  quail  flying  to  roost 
resound  from  the  canon's  depths  a  thousand  feet  be- 
low. Evening  is  fast  falling,  and  something  must  be 
done  soon  if  that  shiny  spot  is  to  be  investigated  and 
camp  reached  before  dark. 

So  thinks  Belville,  and  he  proceeds  to  commit  that 
supreme  folly  of  being  in  a  hurry  after  a  deer  that  is 
not  in  haste.  Why  does  he  not  send  Norton  to  camp 
on  this  trail,  and  take  time  enough  to  reach  that  hill 
that  commands  the  object  in  question  at  so  short  a 
distance?  Or  why  does  he  not  let  the  quarry  go  un- 
disturbed to-night  and  come  again  early  in  the  morn- 
ing? Either  course  is  surer  than  the  attempt  he  is 
now  making  to  approach  it  while  in  sight  of  it.  He 


262      RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

gets  into  the  trail,  and  by  stooping  low  keeps  out  of 
sight  until  at  the  end  of  a  few  yards  the  trail  turns 
down  a  slope,  and  brings  him  into  plain  sight  of  that 
shining  spot,  on  one  side  of  which  several  fine  points 
now  glisten  in  the  light  of  the  sinking  sun. 

Sure  as  man  who  is  falling  behind  the  world  thinks 
himself  ahead  of  it,  so  sure  is  the  hunter  to  think  he 
is  outgeneraling  a  deer  just  when  the  deer  is  out- 
generaling him.  And  Belville  chuckles  with  satisfac- 
tion as  he  finds  himself  drawing  closer  to  the  game 
and  yet  it  does  not  move.  He  has  hunted  much,  but 
not  before  now  has  he  seen  a  deer  stand  in  the  brush 
with  his  head  down  but  turned  to  one  side,  quietly 
watching  something  at  a  distance.  And  yet  he  has 
hunted  enough  to  have  seen  it. 

Still  he  creeps  quietly  on,  and  still  the  spot  moves 
not.  Soon  he  is  within  two  hundred  yards  of  it,  and 
concludes  to  try  a  shot;  for  he  doubts  the  chances  of 
getting  any  closer.  He  adjusts  the  sight  in  a  second, 
raises  the  rifle,  and  the  spot  is  gone!  No  jump,  no 
crash  of  brush,  no  sign  of  anything.  And  yet  the 
brush  seems  scarcely  three  feet  high,  and  thin  at  that. 
The  fellow  had  only  dropped  his  head,  crouched  a 
little,  and  sneaked  away.  This  is  only  one  of  the 
many  pleasing  little  idiosyncrasies  of  this  kind  of 
deer. 

As  the  stars  were  paling  in  the  blue  strip  above 
the  river-gorge,  Belville  and  Norton  finished  their 
breakfast  at  their  camp  beneath  a  royal  live-oak,  on  a 
little  bench  of  land  by  the  water's  side.  And  before 
the  sunlight  began  to  skip  along  the  topmost  boulders 


DEER  IN   THE   OPEN  HILLS.  263 

they  were  mounted  and  off ;  for  this  morning  they 
were  to  ride  the  river  cafion  to  find  a  deer  or  two 
before  they  went  into  the  hills  for  the  day,  perhaps  to 
find  some  deer  that  had  decided  to  spend  the  day  in 
the  cool  shades  of  the  breezy  gorge  itself.  Breakfast 
over,  they  mounted  their  horses,  which  carried  them 
along  through  the  mica  sands  of  the  river-bed,  which 
sparkled  like  gold  in  the  whirling  water,  over  little 
strips  of  rank  green  grass  along  its  sides,  around  big 
boulders,  through  green  groves  of  sycamore,  cotton- 
wood,  and  willow,  under  the  limbs  of  great  live-oaks 
and  the  heavy  tangles  of  grape-vines,  while  the  sides 
of  the  canon,  clothed  with  evergreens  of  dozens  of 
varieties  and  besprinkled  with  a  most  liberal  assort- 
ment of  rocks,  ran  through  a  hundred  hues  and  shades 
as  the  light  grew  stronger.  Here  and  there  on  the 
sandy  bars  or  along  the  wet  margin  of  the  river  they 
saw  where  deer  had  crossed  the  bed  of  the  stream 
or  stopped  at  its  edge  to  drink.  And  wherever  a 
gulch  or  cafion  broke  from  the  hills  into  the  main 
canon,  tracks  were  generally  to  be  seen  on  the  trail 
that  wound  up  its  side  or  along  its  bottom.  There 
was  a  line  through  a  patch  of  grass  that  was  of  a  dif- 
ferent shade  from  the  rest,  and  Belville  said,  as  he 
pointed  it  out, 

"  There  has  been  a  deer  through  that  this  very 
morning.  That  difference  in  color  comes  from  the 
slight  bending  of  the  blades  of  grass,  which  makes  the 
light  strike  them  differently.  We  must  be  quiet  now." 

They  went  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  line  for 
a  few  yards,  when  suddenly  they  heard  a  long-drawn 


264        RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"phew  /"  which  was  repeated    at  intervals    of  several 
seconds  like  the  snort  of  a  Mississippi  steamer,  and 


the  sound  was  getting  farther  away.  <^et  there  was 
no  cracking  of  brush,  no  bump  of  feet,  no  sound  upon 
the  ground.  Quickly  Belville  sprang  from  his  horse 
and  ran.  But  not  towards  the  sound;  and  Norton 
stood  for  a  moment  in  wonder  to  see  him  run  back- 
ward and  directly  away  from  it.  Through  the  water 
and  over  its  bars  and  shallows  he  dashed,  until  he 
reached  the  trees  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  when 
he  stopped,  turned  around  and  cocked  his  rifle,  look- 
ing at  the  hills  on  the  side  whence  the  sound  had 
come.  In  a  moment  he  saw,  stalking  deliberately 
with  kingly  coolness  up  the  hill,  a  splendid  buck,  with 
broad  branching  horns  and  body  round  and  sleek  as 
that  of  a  mule  with  fatness.  Stopping  a  moment 
to  look,  the  buck  caught  a  glimpse  of  Belville,  who  was 
raising  his  rifle,  and'  in  a  twinkling  he  was  in  the  air. 
How  is  it  possible  for  a  deer  to  run  up  such  a  hill? 
And  even  if  that  is  explained,  the  greater  difficulty 
remains  of  explaining  how  one  can  bound  up  such  a  hill. 
Yet  up  he  goes  nevertheless,  much  as  a  ball  would  go 
down  the  side  of  the  pyramid  of  Cheops.  Boulders, 
bushes,  barrancas,  and  ledges  stand  thick  in  his  path- 
way, yet  he  ricochets  along,  on  a  slanting  course 
indeed,  yet  still  up,  up,  up,  rapidly  up.  Bang  !  goes 
the  rifle,  and  the  dirt  flres  from  the  place  he  has  just 
left.  Bang  !  it  goes  again,  held  higher,  and  the  shot 
goes  too  high.  Bang  !  goes  another,  held  a  whole  jump 
ahead,  and  this  time  it  strikes  too  far  ahead,  for  no 
two  jumps  are  alike.  Bang!  goes  still  another  shot, 


DEER  IN   THE  OPEN  HILLS.  265 

held  closer  to  him  to  avoid  the  cause  of  the  last  miss, 
and  the  dust  flies  from  the  bank  just  in  line  with  his  tail. 

And  now  he  has  continued  his  swift  career  to  where 
the  sunlight,  six  hundred  feet  above,  shot  through  a 
canon  on  the  other  side,  makes  the  rugged  hill  smile 
with  morning  freshness. 

O  Nature,  why  dost  thou  ever  mingle  some  alloy 
of  weakness  with  thy  greatest  strength  ?  Yet  when 
we  ourselves  so  often  in  the  very  moment  of  triumph 
allow  some  infirmity  to  dash  to  earth  the  victor's 
plume,  how  can  we  blame  that  buck  for  yielding  to 
that  strong  curiosity  for  seeing  what  is  below  him 
that  a  deer  always  exhibits  when  running  up  hill  ?  In 
charity  let  us  forgive  his  weakness  for  pausing  after 
such  a  splendid  escape.  He  stops,  rears  his  proud 
head  with  all  its  tines  glistening  in  the  morning  sun, 
turns  his  thick  massive  neck  and  points  his  black 
muzzle  and  forehead  downward.  He  shines  all  over 
as  the  sun  lights  up  his  dark  jacket  and  slim  legs, 
and  stands  there,  the  picture  of.  grace  and  strength. 

He  starts  as  the  rifle  cracks  again;  but  not  with  the 
former  ease  as  of  a  spring  released  from  coil.  He 
starts  forward  with  a  crouching  convulsive  jerk,  and 
runs,  not  with  the  high  spring  or  the  low  scudding 
gait  he  well  knows  how  to  take  when  in  haste,  but 
with  the  lumbering  gallop  of  an  old  cow.  And  alas! 
no  longer  upward  goes  he,  but  this  time  he  turns 
downward,  and  with  a  plunging  crash,  among  the 
brush.  He  reels,  struggles  and  stumbles,  turns  a 
somersault  and  comes  tumbling  down  as  fast  as  he 
went  up,  and  rolls  dead  to  the  foot  of  the  hill, 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

TRACKING  DEER  ON  BARE  GROUND. 

A  FEW  miles  from  the  ranch-house  of  Santa  Marga- 
rita is  a  huge  basin  or  amphitheater  of  several 
thousand  acres,  sunk  deep  in  the  great  dark  hills  of 
Santa  Rosa.  A  brook  of  pure  cool  water  traverses  it, 
winding  through  heavy  arcades  of  alder,  sycamore, 
ash,  cottonwood,  and  grape-vines.  Low  hills,  sprink- 
led with  white-oaks,  roll  away  on  the  one  side  into 
the  heavy  chaparral  of  the  mountains,  which  tower 
thousands  of  feet  above;  low  meadows  or  little  plains 
thick  set  with  live-oaks  spread  away  towards  the  hills 
on  the  other  side.  Tremendous  gulches  filled  with 
bright  green  timber  break  here  and  there  into  the 
mountains,  winding  upward  towards  their  tops  until 
the  timber  is  lost  in  the  wild  chaos  of  boulder  and 
bristling  chaparral. 

In  a  grove  of  live-oaks  close  by  the  brook  our  hunt- 
ers were  now  encamped,  and  as  they  looked  at  the 
cool  shades  and  listened  to  the  bubbling  water,  as 
they  heard  the  quails  calling  all  around  and  the  doves 
with  whistling  wing  scudding  in  arrowy  flight,  as  they 
saw  the  rabbit's  white  tail  flicker  along  the  edge  of 
the  brush  at  evening,  and  found  the  deer's  track  by 
the  brook  in  the  morning,  they  concluded  they  had 
found  a  pretty  comfortable  place.  And  who  that  drank 


TRACKING  DEER  ON  BARE  GROUND.         267 

of  the  pure  cool  water,  lounged  in  the  deep  shades,  look- 
ed up  at  the  soaring  hills  robed  in  dark  chaparral, 
cleft  with  stupendous  cafions,  and  fringed  along  their 
tops  with  oaks;  or  bathed  in  the  warm  sulphur  spring, 
and  felt  the  cool  air  descend  at  sundown  like  an  angel 
of  sleep,  would  have  thought  that  this  place  was  not 
fifteen  miles  from  the  bare  and  dreary  coast,  and  but 
a  few  hundred  feet  above  sea-level  ? 

For  several  days  Belville  had  been  trying  to  get 
sight  of  an  immense  buck  of  the  burro,  a  large  "  mule- 
deer"  variety  that  is  found  on  the  desert  slope  of  the 
mountains,  and  only  at  rare  intervals  on  the  coast 
slope.  Thus  far  he  had  been  able  to  find  only  his 
tracks,  and  occasionally  an  abandoned  bed;  and  he 
now  determined  to  try  another  plan. 

Floods  of  inky  twaddle  have  been  shed  from  the 
goose's  quills  about  the  difficulties  of  tracking  game 
on  bare  ground.  There  is  not  a  vaquero  of  twenty  in 
California  who  would  not  laugh  to  learn,  as  many 
have  from  books  and  magazine  articles,  that  the  abili- 
ty to  do  this  was  an  almost  superhuman  power  re- 
served by  nature  to  the  gifted  Indian  alone,  grudg- 
ingly bestowed  even  upon  him,  and  refused  to  the 
white  man.  It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  in  the  case  of 
animals  as  light  as  a  deer  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  fol- 
low them  upon  bare  and  dry  ground,  which  is  nearly 
always  hard;  and  on  some  kinds  of  ground,  impossi- 
ble; and  even  the  keenest  Indian  finds  this  difficult. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  places  where  a  deer 
may  be  tracked  on  bare  ground,  not  as  easily,  indeed, 
but  almost  as  surely  as  upon  snow.  And  this,  too, 


268      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

upon  ground  so  dry,  so  hard,  and  so  covered  with 
grass  or  brush,  that  to  the  tyro  it  would  seem  a  hope- 
less task.  Yet  it  requires  no  natural  gift,  no  lifetime 
of  schooling,  none  of  the  qualifications  we  generally 
read  about  as  indispensable;  but  only  patience,  a 
sound  and  tolerably  well  practiced  eye,  and,  above  all, 
a  knowledge  of  the  deer's  habits  and  movements. 

"The  chap  has  been  here  early  for  water,"  said 
Belville,  one  morning  about  sunrise.  He  pointed  to 
a  large  clear  foot-print  in  the  sandy  margin  of  the 
brook,  half  a  mile  above  the  camp. 

Norton  looked  at  the  track,  and  took  Belville's  word 
for  its  age;  for  to  his  untrained  eye  the  freshness, 
plain  as  that  of  a  newly-plucked  rose,  was  not  quite 
apparent. 

But  where  is  the  next  track  ?  The  bank  behind 
shows  along  its  edge  a  light  fresh  scrape,  where  the 
dew-claws  of  a  hind  foot  had  touched  as  it  came  down 
on  to  lower  ground,  and  between  that  and  the  track 
in  the  sand  was  a  pebble  the  size  of  a  walnut,  one 
side  of  which  was  moist,  showing  that  it  had  been 
lately  displaced.  But  no  other  sign  of  a  foot  was 
visible  on  that  side  of  the  brook.  The  rocky  and  peb- 
bly bed  of  the  brook  showed  no  trace  of  anything, 
and  the  rocky  ledge  on  the  other  side,  closely  bounded 
by  dead  weeds,  grass,  and  brush  on  the  bank,  gave 
slight  prospect  of  finding  any  indications. 

"  He  has  gone  across,  that's  certain,"  said  Belville, 
looking  in  vain  for  any  trace  of  backward  tracks. 
"And  as  deer  very  seldom  spend  much  time  around 
water  in  this  country,  he  is  probably  several  hundred 


TRACKING  DEER   ON  BARE   GROUND.         269 

yards,  perhaps  half  a  mile  or  more,  away  by  this  time. 
So  we  won't  waste  any  time  hunting  the  tracks  here, 
but  will  depend  upon  picking  up  the  trail  farthef 
on." 

Outside  the  timber  a  cattle-trail  ran  parallel  with 
the  brook  on  the  other  side.  Belville  walked  up  and 
down  this  trail  for  fifty  yards  each  way,  looking  care- 
fully in  it  for  tracks.  It  was  not  traveled  enough  to 
make  its  bottom  dusty,  so  that  nothing  was  very  plain- 
ly seen;  but  here  and  there  was  a  faint  scrape  on  some 
bare  spot,  a  faint  ridge  of  fine  dust  coming  to  a  point 
with  a  slight  opening  in  the  center,  and  occasionally 
the  clear  imprint  of  two  sharp  toes  upon  some  spot 
more  dusty  than  the  rest.  Air  these  were  of  the  width 
of  the  track  he  had  seen  in  the  sand.  There  was,  how- 
ever, no  clear  outline,  only  a  smooth  appearance  to  it 
all,  as  though  ants  had  been  traveling  or  the  breeze 
blowing  over  it,  and  in  the  shade  the  color  was  the 
same  as  the  rest  of  the  ground.  So  Belville  decided 
that  these  were  yesterday's  tracks,  and  not  what  he 
was  looking  for. 

Across  the  trail,  the  ground  stood  thick  with  white 
sage,  dead  grass,  dead  weeds;  scarcely  one  twentieth 
of  the  bare  ground  could  be  seen.  Running  through 
the  weeds  in  places  there  were  faint  lines  of  different 
shades  of  color,  but  the  sage  and  grass  showed  none, 
the  sage  being  too  scattered  and  the  grass  too  low  and 
fallen.  And  even  the  traces  left  in  the  weeds  were  of 
no  use;  for  dead  weeds,  when  pushed  aside  and  so 
deflected  as  to  indicate  a  different  shade,  do  not  re- 
cover as  they  do  when  green;  so  that  the  animals  that 


270      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

made  those  lines  might  have  passed  there  several  days 
previously. 

Must  then  the  romancer's  Indian  triumph  after  all? 
Must  the  pale-face  give  it  up  ? — especially  a  pale-face 
who  is  plainly  city  born  and  bred,  and  not  a  profes- 
sional hunter,  reeking  with  whisky,  tobacco,  bad  Eng- 
lish, buckskins,  long  hair,  flop  hat,  and  the  rest  of  the 
novelist's  regulation  outfit  ? 

The  Indian  would  not  waste  a  moment  in  trying  to 
pick  out  tracks  on  such  ground.  Neither  does  Bel- 
ville.  Though  only  an  amateur  hunter,  he  knows  the 
habits  of  deer  too  well  for  that.  Two  hundred  yards 
ahead  he  sees  where  the  ground  rolls  up  into  swells 
with  "sags,"  or  little  passes,  between  them.  He 
knows  that  deer  do  not  feed  on  this  kind  of  ground; 
that  they  rarely  lie  down  in  it  by  day;  that  it  is  still 
much  too  early  for  a  deer  to  lie  down  anywhere;  that 
through  each  of  those  sags  is  probably  an  old  cattle- 
trail;  and  that  traveling  deer,  like  men,  will  take  to  a 
path  almost  every  time  when  it  is  convenient.  He 
knows,  too,  that  half  a  mile  farther  on  the  ground 
breaks  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  into  higher  hills, 
clad  with  chaparral  and  with  timbered  vales  or 
brushy  gulches  between — the  very  kind  of  ground  in 
which  deer  most  love  to  spend  the  day.  He  knows 
also  that  it  is  time  for  the  buck  to  be  nearing  this 
ground,  and  that  he  is  undoubtedly  on  his  way  there 
now.  He  will,  of  course,  lounge  and  browse  a  little  on 
the  way,  but  there  is  not  much  time  to  throw  away  if 
he  is  to  be  caught  standing  or  in  ground  open  enough 
to  offer  a  good  mark  for  a  running  shot. 


TRACKING  DEER   ON  BARE   GROUND.         271 

So  Belville  went  straight  and  swiftly  for  the  deepest 
of  the  little  sags  among  the  hillocks.  There  in  the 
bottom,  as  he  expected,  was  an  old  trail,  little  used  but 
still  a  plain  trail,  in  which  grass  had  grown  and  had 
been  long  since  trampled  flat  and  cut  up  by  cattle- 
hoofs.  Quickly  his  eye  ran  along  a  few  yards  of  this 
and  caught  sight  of  a  faint  scrape  on  a  hard  bare 
spot.  There  was  no  outline  of  a  track,  no  print  of 
toes,  no  dust  thrown  up,  no  grass  or  weeds  bent,  no 
leaf  moistened  on  the  under  side  by  being  pressed 
down,  no  fresh  side  of  a  stone  or  chip  or  moss  turned 
up;  only  the  faintest  change  in  the  shade  of  color  on 
a  spot  of  hard  dirt  as  large  as  a  quarter  of  a  dollar. 
Could  there  be  a  wilder  flight  of  fancy  than  calling 
this  a  track  ? 

Yet  the  eye  that  was  used  to  reading  the  ground 
decided  in  a  second  that  that  mark  was  positively 
made  that  morning;  that  nothing  but  a  hoof  could 
have  so  ground  the  fine  particles  of  dust  as  to  make 
them  show  such  a  different  shade  of  color,  and  con- 
sequently that  the  mark  was  not  made  by  panther, 
wild-cat,  coyote,  or  other  soft-footed  animal.  Just  as 
quickly  it  was  decided  that  this  track  was  not  large  or 
heavy  enough  for  the  track  of  cattle. 

But  where  is  the  next  track  ?  Little  Belville  seemed 
to  care,  for  he  traveled  rapidly  on  in  the  trail  almost 
without  looking  for  any  further  sign.  And  behold,  it 
led  through  dead  grass,  weeds,  and  white  sage,  ground 
for  which  a  deer  could  have  no  use  at  this  time  of 
day.  And  it  only  went  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
before  it  turned  over  a  little  rising  tongue  of  low 


272      RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

chemisal  which  ran  out  from  a  large  patch  on  the  left. 
And  in  this  chemisal  the  ground  was  almost  bare. 
When  Belville  reached  this,  he  found  the  bottom  of 
the  trail  both  bare  and  dusty,  and  in  the  very  first 
foot  of  it  was  a  print  as  distinct  as  if  made  by  the 
point  of  a  flat-iron.  Two  or  three  more  were  beyond 
it,  beside  which  no  more  were  seen.  But  a  moment's 
glance  at  the  ground  on  either  side  showed  on  the 
left  a  bright  spot  with  a  little  fine  ridge  of  dust  cast 
up  ahead  of  it;  a  yard  beyond  it  was  another,  and  just 
beyond  that  a  slight  spot  of  grayer  shade  on  a  bit  of 
friable  granite.  Yes;  the  deer  had  turned  that  way. 

And  now,  you  see,  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  follow 
the  track.  And  that  is  just  what  the  tyro  would  do. 
But  Belville  does  quite  the  contrary.  He  knows  that 
this  bit  of  brush  is  too  low,  too  open,  too  near  the 
Santa  Rosa  trail  for  a  deer  to  pass  the  day  in,  and 
that  he  will  leave  it  at  the  other  end,  or  at  the  side 
that  lies  towards  the  higher  and  more  broken  hills. 
But  he  also  knows  that  at  this  early  hour  of  the  morn- 
ing a  deer  may  have  stopped  at  any  point  on  his  way 
from  water  back  to  the  hills.  Hence  he  quickly 
reasons  thus: 

1.  If  he  has  passed  on,  I  can  pick  up  the  trail  where 
he  left  this  chemisal  patch  quite  as  easily  as  I  can  fol- 
low it  through;  perhaps*  more  easily. 

2.  If  he  is  still  in  here  (and  he  may  possibly  be  behind 
those    rocks    or   among  those   higher  bushes),  it  will 
take  all  my  eyesight  to  find  his  fur  without  wasting 
any  time  or  attention  on  his  tracks. 

He  now  motions   to  Norton  to  sit  down,  and  then 


TRACKING  DEER   ON  BARE   GROUND.         273 

reflects  how  best  to  inspect  the  ground.     Four  things 
he  considers  in  this  order: 

1.  The  wind. 

2.  The  best  ground  to  travel  without  noise. 

3.  The  best  ground  from  which  to  see  the  game; 
that  is,  the  highest. 

4.  The  sun. 

The  wind  question  is  quickly  disposed  of,  for  the 
land-breeze  has  just  stopped  and  the  sea-breeze  has 
not  yet  begun;  so  that  the  deer  can  scent  a  person  no 
better  in  one  direction  than  another. 

The  question  of  noise  in  walking  vanishes  as,  easily, 
for  the  brush  is  about  equally  dense  and  brittle  in 
every  direction,  and  on  the  outside  the  dry  crackly 
sage-stalks  are  so  disposed  about  as  to  leave  little 
opportunity  for  selection. 

There  is  also  little  choice  of  elevation  of  ground, 
certainly  not  enough  to  counterbalance  the  advantage 
of  having  the  sun  fall  right.  - 

So  he  takes  the  course  that  will  give  him  the  sun 
on  his  own  back  while  it  shines  on  the  deer's  coat  and 
horns — an  advantage  sometimes  worth  all  the  rest 
put  together. 

Futile  are  all  these  manceuvers,  however,  for 
neither  glossy  fur  nor  glistening  tines  nor  crash  of 
brush  nor  bump  of  hoof  greets  eye  or  ear,  as  Belville 
passes  over  the  ground.  But  then,  more  than  three 
fourths  of  the  painstaking  of  good  still-hunting  is 
care  thrown  away.  It  takes  Belville  but  a  few 
moments  to  find  where  the  deer  left  this  brush, 
which  seems  to  be  on  a  course  that  leads  over  another 


274      RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

ctiemisat-crowned  ridge  two  hundred  yards  away 
This  ridge  is  so  thin  and  low  that  Belville  at  once 
decides  that  the  game  is  not  there,  and  he  therefore 
goes  straight  to  it  without  looking  a  moment  for 
intermediate  tracks  in  the  dead  grass  and  weeds. 
For  not  only  does  the  ridge  lie  in  the  direction  of  the 
last  track,  but  it  is  directly  in  the  course  of  the  broken 
hills  and  brushy  vales  mentioned  before,  and  so  long 
that  a  deer  would  not  go  around  it;  and  it  is,  more- 
over, on  a  kind  of  ground  that  deer  like  to  travel 
through,  though  they  seldom  lie  down  in  it. 

Reaching  the  ridge,  Belville  finds  the  track  readily 
by  making  a  short  tour  along  the  edge;  and  it  proves 
to  be  a  simple  matter  to  follow  it  across,  as  every 
other  track  shows  quite  plainly  on  the  bare  ground. 
Reaching  the  other  side,  the  track  is  found  to  lead 
towards  a  large  piece  of  low  ground  covered  with  dead 
grass  and  sage  and  liberally  sprinkled  with  white- 
oaks. 

And  now,  be  careful,  Doctor.  This  is  the  time 
of  year  for  acorns — those  white-oak  acorns  the  deer 
loves  more  than  any  other  kind;  he  has  undoubtedly 
stopped  to  get  some,  and  is  probably  eating  them 
yet.  Remember,  too,  that  those  tree-tops  shut  out 
much  of  the  view,  and  that  if  you  try  to  enter  that 
place  from  higher  ground  he  will  be  almost  certain  to 
see  your  feet  and  legs  before  your  eyes  get  low  enough 
to  see  him;  for  a  deer's  eyes  are  marvelously  quick  to 
detect  a  motion  of  any  kind. 

All  this  Belville  knows  right  well.  For  see  how  he 
backs  out  and  starts  away  off  to  the  right,  so  as  to 


TRACKING  DEER   ON  BARE   GROUND.         275 

get  into  the  dry  sandy  bed  of  a  little  creek  that  leads 
out  of  this  ground.  Traveling  cautiously  up  the 
water-course  for  two  or  three  hundred  yards,  his  eye 
at  last  rests  on  a  spot  of  white,  flanked  with  a  line  of 
dark  gray  with  a  center  of  black,  supported  by  a 
couple  of  knock-kneed  gray  sticks,  perhaps  three 
hundred  yards  beyond.  A  shiver  of  satisfaction  runs 
over  the  hunter  as  he  drops  his  head  almost  out  of 
sight  and  watches  the  object  before  him.  Presently 
some  shining  points  rise  from  behind  it,  and  a  huge 
head,  surmounted  by  great  branching  horns,  appears, 
Motionless  at  first,  it  shortly  turns  a  moment  to  each 
side,  and  then  disappears  again. 

"Too  far!"  says  Belville  to  himself.  "I  stand  a 
better  chance  of  getting  closer  than  of  hitting  him 
from  here.  Besides,  he  must  be  killed  dead  with  a 
sure  shot  and  not  sent  hobbling  into  yonder  chaparral 
to  die." 

So  saying,  he  starts  on  a  very  hazardous,  yet,  if 
properly  performed,  quite  easy,  operation — to  ap- 
proach a  deer  when  in  plain  sight  of  him.  This  is 
almost  impossible  unless  the  deer  is  feeding  from  the 
ground.  For  if  he  be  on  the  watch,  it  is  quite  impos- 
sible to  come  near  him;  and  if  browsing,  his  head  is 
so  high  that  he  is  quite  likely  to  see  you. 

Leaving  his  hat  behind,  Belville  starts  on  hands  and 
knees  toward  the  deer.  In  a  moment  the  buck's  head 
comes  up,  and  at  the  first  motion  upward  Belville 
stops  still  as  a  statue.  The  animal  takes  a  look  all 
around  and  lowers  his  head  again  to  the  ground; 
whereupon  Belville  begins  again  to  crawl  forward  as 


276         RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

fast  as  possible.  At  the  next  moment  up  comes  again 
the  heavily-antlered  head.  The  buck  looks  carefully 
all  round  the  horizon,  scratches  one  ear,  turns  around 
broadside,  and  stands  a  moment  with  the  sun  full  on 
his  shining  coat.  He  appears  much  larger,  higher 
shouldered,  and  thicker  necked  than  any  of  the  deer  yet 
described,  and  his  horns  are  longer  and  more  branch- 
ing. It  is  without  doubt  the  old  boy  that  made  the 
track.  Down  goes  his  head  once  more  for  acorns, 
and  now  Belville  drops  flat  upon  the  ground.  He  no 
longer  dares  trust  himself  on  hands  and  knees;  for 
the  deer's  eyes  are  now  too  nearly  turned  in  his  direc- 
tion. So  he  adopts  the  more  laborious  but  much  safer 
process  of  worm-ing  his  way  on  his  elbows  and  toes. 

He  advances  in  this  way  about  fifteen  yards,  when 
the  deer  takes  another  observation,  while  Belville 
stops  the  instant  he  raises  his  head.  Feeding  re- 
sumed, Belville  advances  another  twenty  yards  before 
being  again  interrupted  by  the  upraised  head.  This 
time  the  deer  takes  a  good  look,  moves  a  few  paces, 
wiggles  his  tail  with  evident  satisfaction,  then  decides 
on  another  bite.  And  as  soon  as  he  drops  his  head 
to  the  ground  Belville  continues  his  cautious  and 
painful  progress. 

And  now  the  dark  muzzle  and  huge  gray  ears  are 
turned  full  on  Belville  as  they  come  up;  every  shin- 
ing tine  on  the  horns  seems  to  be  pointing  directly 
at  him;  he  almost  sees  the  dark  blue  eyes  looking 
through  him;  he  can  almost  see  that  tight  firmness 
of  the  mouth  that  a  deer  wears  when  suspicious  of 
danger.  The  deer  does  not  run  or  move.  He  only 


TRACKING  DEER   ON  BARE   GROUND.         277 

looks  straight  on,  and  keenly.  What  is  Belville  to 
do  ?  What  would  you  do  if  in  his  place  ? — if  you  had 
been  crawling  for  ten  minutes,  feeling  as  if  every  hair 
on  your  head  were  caught  in  a  whirlwind,  with  de- 
lightful expectation  waltzing  through  your  heart, 
while  hope  and  fear  were  executing  a  contra-dance 
along  your  back-bone  ? 

You  would  no  doubt  shoot  from  where  Belville  now 
is.  It  is  only  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards.  And 
what  is  that  distance  for  the  great  modern  rifle  ?  Do 
they  not  now  score  bull's-eyes  at  a  thousand  yards  ? 
And  are  not  hunters  constantly  shooting  game  at 
five  hundred  and  six  hundred  yards  ?  Are  not  two 
hundred  and  fifty  and  three  hundred  yards  the  regu- 
lation distances  for  killing  game  ?  Yes,  with  the 
quill.  But  Belville  has  tried  too  often  the  difficult 
operation  of  estimating  distance  to  be  deceived  by 
the  ridiculous  stuff  of  such  writers.  And  he  reasons 
like  one  who  knows. 

"  I  ought  to  get  at  least  one  hundred  yards  closer 
for  anything  like  certainty,  and  even  that  is  not 
enough  for  a  center-shot.  But  then,  the  old  fellow 
seems  suspicious.  If  he  starts,  I  can't  hit  him  running 
from  here.  If  I  wait  longer,  he  may  decide  that  there 
is  danger  in  this  quarter  and  vanish.  Besides,  it  is 
getting  to  be  time  for  him  to  be  moving;  he  may  be 
through  feeding;  and  if  he  starts  off  for  the  hills  even 
on  a  walk,  I  cannot  overtake  him.  I  quess  I  shall 
have  to  try  him,  though  it's  a  very  long  shot.  " 

So  thinking,  he  begins  very  slowly  to  raise  his  gun. 
But  why  does  he  not  stop  to  consider  the  other  side. 


278      RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA, 

of  the  question  ?  Perhaps  he  does  not  see  any  other 
side.  People  often  view  more  important  questions  in 
the  same  way.  But  if  he  would  ransack  the  lumber- 
garret  of  experience  a  moment,  he  would  recognize 
some  very  important  considerations.  He  would  re- 
member that  deer  often  look  steadily  in  one  direction 
for  some  time  without  suspecting  anything;  that  to 
raise  the  rifle  now  and  adjust  the  sights  while  the 
deer  is  looking  his  way  is  dangerous,  especially  with 
the  sun  shining  as  it  now  is;  that  in  his  present  posi- 
tion he  cannot  look  over  the  intermediate  ground, 
without  doing  which  the  estimation  of  distance,  al- 
ways unreliable  enough,  is  doubtly  untrustworthy; 
that  unless  alarmed  the  deer  will  either  begin  feeding 
again,  or,  if  done  feeding,  will  probably  stand  around  a 
few  minutes  before  going  off;  and  that  even  if  he  is 
suspicious,  the  chances  of  his  running  a  few  paces  only 
and  stopping  again  for  another  look  are  just  about 
as  good  as  the  chances  of  making  a  deadly  shot  at  an 
unknown  distance. 

But  how  hard  it  is  to,  reason  calmly  at  such  a 
time  !  How  hard,  with  the  game  in  sight  and  the 
rifle  in  hand,  to  have  that  patience  and  coolness  of 
judgment  upon  which  in  the  long-run  success  most 
depends  !  It  is  more  than  Belville  can  stand,  and  he 
slowly  raises  the  rifle. 

ATTd  as  it  comes  to  a  level,  the  shapely  glossy  statue 
is  changed  into  a  cow-shaped  brute  on  a  long  springy 
and  awkward  trot — a  gait  that  deer  sometimes  take. 
And  this  trot  the  deer  holds  regardless  of  bullets  spin- 
ning around  him,  until  he  fades  over  a  low  ridge. 


TRACKING  DEER.  ON  BARE   GROUND.        279 

Belville  made  a  few  observations  on  deer  in  general 
and  this  one  in  particular,  which  will  not  do  to  print, 
and  then  made  his  way  back  to  Norton,  to  whom  he 
recounted  his  adventure,  laying,  however,  more  stress 
upon  his  success  in  tracking  the  deer  than  upon  the 
results  obtained  after  he  had  found  him. 

"  It's  too  late  to  go  anywhere  else  this  morning,"  he 
said;  "  so  let's  take  a  smoke;"  and  he  sat  down  by 
Norton,  and  consoled  himself  with  a  fragrant  pipe. 

NOTE. — Selection  has,  of  course,  been  made  of  an  easy  case  of 
bare-ground  tracking,  to  exemplify  its  most  important  principles. 
There  is  much  ground  on  which  it  would  be  far  more  difficult.  But  it 
must  be  remembered  that  on  the  greater  part  of  such  ground  still- 
hunting,  either  by  tracking  or  otherwise,  is  almost  impossible. 
So  that  bare-ground  tracking  over  country  worth  hunting  at  all  is 
generally  no  such  wonderful  thing  as  it  is  represented. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    MUTUAL   JOKERS. 

YOU  don't  seem  a  bit  tired  with  your  walk;  you 
must  be  getting  much  stronger,"  said  Belville 
to  Norton,  as  they  sat  down  on  a  rock. 

"  I  have  certainly  gained  very  much,  and  have  good 
reason  to  hope  for  a  complete  cure." 

"  Yes,  if  you  don't  make  the  usual  mistake  of  going 
back  East  and  resuming  your  old  mode  of  life.  Fully 
sixty  per  cent  of  invalids  who  do  recover  undo  them- 
selves again  in  this  way." 

"  How  many  do  you  suppose  do  recover  ?" 

"  Very  few.  Very  small  is  the  percentage  of  those 
who  recover  in  any  climate,  or  could  recover  in  any 
climate  in  the  world.  Fully  fifty  per  cent  start  from 
home  too  late  to  be  cured  by  anything.  Of  the  other 
fifty,  one  half  look  upon  climate  as  a  direct  and  posi- 
tive medicine,  and  think  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to 
sit  down  and  take  it.  They  take  no  amusement,  no 
exercise,  do  nothing  to  increase  the  appetite  or  build 
up  the  system.  They  find  that  they  don't  get  well  at 
once;  and  in  a  few  weeks  vote  the  climate  a  fraud, 
and  skip  away  to  some  place  more  lively  and 
unhealthy.  A  very  few  do  as  you  have  done :  look 
upon  climate  not  as  a  direct  means,  but  as  a  condition 
of  cure,  and  go  to  work  to  build  themselves  up  by 


•  THE  MUTUAL  JOKERS.  281 

out-of-door  amusements  that  give  just  the  right 
amount  of  exercise,  increase  the  appetite,  and  keep 
off  the  blues.  And  yet  a  large  number  of  these,  after 
life  is  saved  and  assured,  throw  it  away  by  returning 
to  the  climate  and  habits  of  life  in  which  the  disease 
original  ed." 

"  I  shall  look  out  for  that  mistake  and  avoid  it," 
said  Norton.  "  I  believe  I  owe  my  recovery  entirely 
to  the  life  I  have  led  since  I  came  here.  If  I  had  not 
fallen  into  your  hands,  I  might  have  gone  the  way 
of  the  great  majority.  I  shall  always  be  grateful  to 
you  for  advising  me  to  spend  the  time  as  I  have,  and 
for  helping  me  to  do  it." 

"  I  knew  it  would  save  you  if  anything  would;  but 
I  felt  quite  alarmed  about  you  at  one  time." 

Norton  here  began  to  laugh. 

"  There's  a  joke  about  that  that  is  almost  too  good 
to  keep,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  Any  joke  is  too  good  to  keep.  Unlock  the  cas- 
ket," said  Belville. 

"  I  played  the  dying  man  pretty  well  that  time !" 

"Yes.  I  thought  you  did.  But  I  wondered  how 
you  could  make  yourself  thinner  in  flesh  without  real 
injury.  Of  course  the  cough  part  of  it  was  easy 
enough  to  manage,"  replied  Belville,  coolly. 

"You  don't  understand  me,"  said  Norton.  "I  saw 
how  it  was  going  between  you  and  Laura,  and  I  played 
that  trick  to  head  you  off." 

"Going  between  us?     Please  elucidate." 

"Come,  now;  you  need  not  play  the  innocent 
Laura  has  told  me  all  about  it." 


282      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

"Oh — yes,"  said  Belville,  scratching  his  head  as 
though  trying  to  rake  up  his  recollection.  "You 
mean  that  little  transient  affair.  I  declare,  I'd  almost 
lost  sight  of  it  in  the  light  of  a  brighter  matter.  Oh, 
I  knew  that  all  the  time.  Well,"  he  added  flipping 
the  ashes  from  his  cigar  with  his  little  finger  as 
delicately  and  artistically  as  if  in  a  city  club-room,  "I 
can  tell  a  joke  worth  two  of  yours,  and  one  that  has 
the  additional  advantage  of  being  news.  You  see, 
that  was  only  a  little  matter  of  rapid  growth  and 
equally  rapid  decline;  it  was  a  mere  phosphorescence, 
a  transient  gleam  of  moonlight  that  I  mistook  for  sun- 
shine. I  found  out  right  away  that  I  had  not  chosen 
as  I  wished,  and  so  I  made  no  objection  to  her  marry- 
ing you  as  the  easiest  way  to  arrange  the  affair.  It 
was  your  sister  that  I  really  wanted,  and  true  love 
being  always  blind,  you  know,  I  did  not  see  it  at  first." 

Norton  sat  staggered  at  the  cool  impudence  of  the 
fellow, *and  said  not  a  word,  although  he  wondered 
whether  he  ought  not  to  resent  such  talk;  while  Bel- 
ville continued  calmly  smoking. 

"  Now,  my  dear  fellow,"  contiuued  Belville,  flipping 
off  with  elegant  ease  the  slight  crust  of  ashes  that  had 
formed  again  on  his  cigar,  "if  you  feel  under  any  obli- 
gation to  me  for  my  share  in  bringing  about  the  turn 
things  have  taken,  I'll  give  you  a  receipt  in  full,  if  you 
wish.  Your  sister  has  canceled  the  whole  obligation." 

"  See  here,  my  friend,  I  don't  relish  such  allusions  to 
my  sister,  even  from  you,"  said  Norton,  with  a  decided- 
ly frosty  crackle  in  his  tone. 

"  I  can   readily  understand    and    sympathize   with 


THE  MUTUAL  JOKERS.  283 

your  repugnance  to  allusions.  In  fact,  I  have  myself 
a  most  pronounced  antipathy  to  the  article.  What 
you  mistook  for  an  allusion  was  a  fact.  But  your 
mistake  was  very  natural.  No  apology  is  necessary." 

"Do  you  mean  that  my  sister — " 

"Pre-e-e-cisely,"  interrupted  Belville.  "  She  gave  me 
her  heart  some  time  since,  and  will  give  me  her  hand 
this  coming  winter." 

"Why!  she  is  already  engaged  to  a  young  physi- 
cian in  Boston!" 

It  was  now  Belville's  turn  to  be  astonished,  but  he 
suppressed  all  outward  signs  of  surprise. 

"Ah,  well,  you  know  it  is  common  for  patients 
having  a  severe  complaint  to  change  physicians,"  he 
replied  pleasantly. 

"  But  I  can't  believe  it.  She  can't  be  false  to  him," 
rejoined  Norton,  still  struggling  under  his  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Of  course  not  false.  She  couldn't  be  false  to  any 
one.  Only  slightly  fickle.  Others  have  been  so 
before  her,"  said  Belville,  soothingly. 

"No  indeed;  I  don't  believe  she  could,"  said  Nor- 
ton, shaking  his  head  solemnly  and  talking  mainly  to 
himself. 

"Then  she  could  not  have  been  engaged  to  the 
other  man.  I  shall  cheerfully  accept  that  view  of  it, 
for  I  dislike  fickleness." 

"  Well,  you  shall  never  marry  her,"  said  Norton, 
at  length,  with  firmness. 

"  Oh,  perhaps  not;  perhaps  not.  She  said  I  should, 
however.  But  then  I  didn't  know  about  the  other 


284          RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

doctor  in  the  case.  There  is  no  depending  on  fickle 
persons.  I  really  regret  to  learn  that  she  is  so  fickle." 
Norton's  response  to  this  was  angry,  but  Belville's 
rejoinder  was  conciliatory,  and  they  finally  agreed 
to  have  no  more  words  about  it;  Norton  vowing  in- 
wardly, however,  that  his  sister  should  never  transform 
their  hunting  companion  into  a  brother-in-law,  and 
Belville  being  complacently  satisfied  with  his  own 
purposes. 

"May  I  be  immediately  and  eternally  jilted'  if  I 
don't  believe  I  behold  venison  on  yonder  ridge!"  said 
Belville,  suddenly  fumbling  for  his  glass.  "  Bang  my 
hair,  if  I  don't!"  he  continued,  as  he  turned  it  upon  a 
small  dark  speck  in  the  brush  nearly  half  a  mile  away. 

"  What  is  it?"  asked  Norton. 

"  It  is  either  a  spike-horned  buck  or  a  doe,  I  can't , 
tell  which.  If  a  doe,  she  has  likely  a  fawn  or  two  with 
her.  It  acts  as  though  it  were  going  to  lie  down  on 
that  point,"  he  said,  as  he  saw  the  distant  object  move 
around  the  shady  side  of  a  large  heteromeles  that  was 
now  shining  with  bright  clusters  of  crimson  berries 
amid  its  lustrous  green  leaves.  "The  surest  way  is  to 
wait  here  and  watch  it  until  it  does  lie  down,"  he  con- 
tinued; "for  if  we  attempt  to  approach  that  ridge 
while  it  is  on  foot,  it  will  be  sure  to  see  us;  unless  we 
could  make  a  wide  circuit,  which  you  see  we  cannot 
do  on  account  of  the  chaparral.  But  if  it  once  reaches 
that  line  of  thick  brush  where  the  ridge  joins  the 
main  hills,  farewell  deer!  But  the  chances  are  very 
strong  that  if  let  alone  it  will  lie  down  just  about 


THE  MUTUAL  JOKERS.  285 

where  it  is,  because  it  is  now  very  near  the  time  of 
day  for  deer  to  take  a  rest,  and  that  is  just  the  kind  of 
place  they  like  to  lie  down  in." 

He  watched  the  spot  a  few  minutes  longer,  and  then 
it  gradually  shifted  out  of  sight  around  the  bush. 
Several  minutes  more  of  steady  gazing  failed  to  catch 
another  glimpse  of  it. 

"  I  think  it  has  lain  down,"  said  Belville,  at  length. 
"  But  it  won't  do  to  rely  upon  that.  There  are  more 
deer  lost  by  haste  than  in  any  other  way;  and  this  is 
most  decidedly  a  case  where  it  is  dangerous.  If  it 
has  lain  down  at  all,  we  can  take  half  the  day  to  ap- 
proach it.  If  not,  we  will  gain  nothing  by  going 
while  it  is  standing  up,  for  it  will  be  no  easy  matter 
to  keep  clear  of  its  eye-range  even  when  lying  down. 
It  would  be  quite  likely  to  lie  still  if  it  did  see  us, 
especially  if  we  were  at  a  considerable  distance.  But 
it  is  never  safe  to  presume  on  that.  And  if  it  should 
see  us  while  it  is  standing,  it  is  far  more  likely  to  run 
than  if  the  discovery  is  made  while  lying  down.  I 
think  we  had  best  retire  to  the  shade  of  that  big  oak 
and  camp  for  an  hour  or  two,  so  as  to  give  the  fellow 
a  chance  tov  settle  down  and  get  composed." 

An  hour  and  a  half  passed  away,  and  then  Belville 
said, 

"Well,  it's  late  enough  and  warm  enough  now  for 
the  deer  to  be  down.  Suppose  we  close  in  on  him  now 
and  try  him." 

They  rode  to  the  other  side  of  a  branch  of  the 
creek  that,  lined  with  timber,  ran  to  within  three 
hundred  yards  of  the  point,  and  when  they  had  come 


286      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

opposite  the  point  they  tied  their  horses  and  crossed 
the  stream  on  foot. 

"  Now  if  you  can  travel  up  the  bottom  of  this  gully 
until  you  get  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  or  so  beyond 
that  point,  you  are  all  right,"  said  Belville.  "You 
will  find  it  rough  and  warm,  but  take  it  slowly,  and 
take  an  occasional  rest  in  the  shady  parts  of  it.  When 
you  get  there,  climb  out  of  the  gully  and  sneak  as 
quietly  as  you  can  up  to  the  back-bone  of  the  ridge. 
I  shall  probably  be  there  by  that  time;  but  if  I  am 
not,  wait  for  me.  I'll  swing  around  and  work  up  the 
next  gully,  and  so  get  on  the  ridge  from  the  other 
side,  and  if  all  goes  well  we  will  meet  there  without 
the  deer's  seeing,  hearing,  or  smelling  us." 

Then  they  separated,  each  going  his  way.  In  about 
twenty-five  minutes  Norton  had  reached  the  back  of 
the  ridge,  where  he  found  Belville  awaiting  him. 

"  Now,"  said  Belville,  "  the  wind  is  all  right,  in  our 
faces  ;  and  we  can  take  our  time  to  it.  You  keep  down 
along  the  side  of  the  ridge  just  high  enough  to  see 
anything  that  runs  along  the  back,  yet  low  enough 
for  a  shot  at  anything  that  goes  along  the  side.  The 
deer  will  be  almost  certain  to  hear  one  of  us  before 
the  other,  and  will  whip  around  the  point  to  the  other 
side  and  offer  there  the  best  shot.  But  it  may  also 
run  along  the  top  of  the  ridge;  and  it  may  run  off 
the  point  and  across  the  creek:  either  of  which  would 
give  us  a  very  bad  shot.  So  make  as  little  noise  as 
possible." 

Belville  now  allowed  Norton  to  walk  faster  than 
himself,  knowing  that  his  companion's  boot  would 


THE  MUTUAL  JOKERS*  287 

make  more  noise  than  he  did  with  moccasins;  the 
purpose  of  this  little  scheme  being  to  let  the  deer 
hear  Norton  first  and  run  around  to  Belville's  side  of 
the  ridge.  As  Belville  was  far  the  best  shot,  this  was 
quite  a  pardonable  piece  of  selfishness,  for  it  increased 
the  chances  of  securing  the  game;  but  whether  par- 
donable or  not,  it  was  a  weakness  such  as  often  lets 
down  the  underpinning  of  the  most  magnanimous 
sportsman's  good  intentions. 

It  was  one  of  Belville's  faults  to  be  an  extremist;  a 
regular  radical  in  nearly  everything  he  undertook. 
And  he  was  not  less  an  extremist  in  some  of  his  ideas 
of  hunting  than  he  was  in  his  ideas  of  the  pleasure 
and  propriety  of  flirting — a  subject  upon  which  he 
had  once  ranked  high  as  an  authority  among  the 
crushing  young  men  of  festive  "  Frisco."  Hence  it 
was  not  "  remarkably  remarkable"  that,  before  he 
heard  or  saw  anything  like  a  deer  and  before  he  got 
within  fifty  yards  of  where  the  animal  had  been  last 
seen,  the  visage  of  Norton,  clouded  with  disappoint- 
ment, should  heave  in  sight  around  the  ^point,  and 
quite  low  down,  too.  The  gloomy  aspect  of  Belville's 
face  at  once  eclipsed  Norton's  melancholy  counte- 
nance; but  the  expression  lasted  but  a  second,  and 
was  changed  into  a  flash  of  triumph  as  he  started  and 
ran  to  the  top  of  the  ridge. 

Reaching  it,  he  looked  a  moment  all  over  the  sur- 
rounding territory  and  then  went  down  the  other 
side  a  little  way.  Just  below  the  level  of  the  top  a 
faint  scrape  on  the  ground  attracted  his  eye.  It  was 
only  the  freshening  of  the  color  of  half  an  inch  or 


288         RIFLE,  ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

so  of  the  dry  hard  earth;  but  there  was  certainly  a 
change  in  the  shade  caused  by  the  grinding  of  the 
lightest  particles  of  dirt  under  something  heavy. 
Three,  six,  nine,  fifteen  feet  ahead  of  it  his  eye  quick- 
ly runs,  yet  detects  nothing  till  the  twentieth  foot, 
when  a  slight  rim  of  dry  dust,  the  thickness  of  a 
thread  and  half  an  inch  long,  catches  his  eye,  being 
noticeable  mainly  by  reason  of  the  difference  in  the 
color.  By  its  side  is  another  scrape  on  the  hard 
ground,  only  four  inches  from  the  rim  of  dust!  And 
in  this  last  scrape  is  something  looking  powerfully 
-like  the  print  of  a  small  nail-head. 

"  May  I  encounter  a  female  book-agent  if  he  hasn't 
stepped  square  in  Norton's  track  since  he  passed 
here!"  exclaimed  Belville.  He  turned  around  and 
went  straight  to  the  bush  where  he  had  first  seen  the 
deer.  Norton  was  already  there.  Belville  gave  a 
look  at  the  ground  under  the  bush  and  a  glance  along 
the  ground  for  some  twenty  feet  in  the  direction  he 
had  just  come  from.  But  nothing  was  visible  except 
here  and  there  a  faint  scratch  or  a  broken  twig  or 
crushed  bit  of  dry  springy  moss. 

Then  he  said  to  Norton,  "That  deer  has  let  you  pass 
him  and  then  quietly  sloped  with  that  low  sneaking 
trot  that  will  take  a  deer  out  of  sight  in  a  potato- 
patch  and  carry  him  over  a  drum-head  without  mak- 
ing a  particle  of  noise.  It's  one  of  the  tricks  of  the 
trade.  I  was  intending  to  get  higher  up  on  the  ridge 
in  another  minute  or  two,  but  did  not  think  you  were 
so  far  ahead." 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  suppose  I  spoilt  the  thing  by 


FHE   MUTUAL  JOKERS.  289 

trying  to  play  a  little  trick  'on  you.  I  tried  to  get 
ahead  so  that  you  would  drive  him  on  to  me,"  said 
Norton. 

"A  capital  joke!  Only  you  got  it  tail  foremost. 
You  should  have  stayed  back,"  said  Belville.  "There's 
nothing  now  to  do  but  quit,"  he  added,  as  he  shoul- 
dered his  rifle  and  started  for  the  horses. 

"  That  wild-cat  thinks  he's  pretty  sharp  now,  don't 
he  ?"  said  Belville,  as  they  got  about  half-way  to 
camp.  He  pointed  to  a  round  head  with  two  tufted 
ears  that  was  peering  at  them  from  a  granite  boulder 
about  a  hundred  yards  distant  at  one  side. 

"O — o — oh!  yes,"  said  Norton.  "Ain't  he  a  rouser? 
Just  wait  till  I — " 

He  slipped  off  his  horse  and  handed  the  reins  to 
Belville. 

"  Here,  take  the  rifle,"  said  Belville.  "  It's  too  far 
for  buckshot,  and  you  can't  get  any  closer,  probably." 

Norton  took  the  rifle,  and  the  first  shot  sang  across 
the  rolling  ground  beyond.  But  Puss  seemed  to  en- 
joy the  tune  and  lay  still. 

The  second  shot,  striking  the  edge  of  the  rock, 
made  a  spiteful  "  mee-aa-oo"  as  it  spun  away  aloft,  but 
Puss,  as  if  it  were  the  voice  of  one  of  her  angel-kittens 
calling  from  above,  remained  yet  perfectly  quiet. 

"  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,"  said  Belville  as  Norton 
shot  again  without  effect.  "  Take  it  coolly;  they  don't 
move  generally  unless  hit." 

Ball  after  ball  hissed,  sang  in  the  air,  and  splashed 
in  pieces  against  the  face  of  the  rock,  until  the  maga- 


290      RIFLE,    ROD   AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

zine  of  the  rifle  had  been  emptied  of  the  fifteen  shots 
it  had  contained. 

**  Here  is  the  last  one.  Now  make  it  tell,"  said 
Belville,  handing  him  another  cartridge. 

"  Then  you  shoot  him,  for  I  couldn't  hit  a  barn 
now;  and  it  won't  do  to  go  home  without  anything/ 
Norton  dolefully  replied. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  about  shooting  him  again,"  said 
Belville,  carelessly. 

"Again?" 

"  Yes.     I  shot  him  yesterday." 


CHAPTER  XXV, 
THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  HUNT. 

WHERE  is  there  a  grizzly-bear  country  without 
its  "Old  Club  Foot"— that  old  varlet  that 
years  ago  lost  part  of  one  foot  in  a  trap  ;  that  always 
prefers  to  bag  his  own  game,  and  so  cannot  be  baited; 
that  does  not  affect  cold  victuals,  and  so  cannot  be 
poisoned  or  waylaid;  that  traveling  lead -mine  from 
which  no  hunter  has  ever  yet  recovered  his  invest- 
ments, and  even  from  prospecting  which  so  few  have 
returned  ?  Even  poor  San  Diego,  unknown,  forsaKen, 
and  despised  as  it  is  by  the  state  of  which  it  is  a  part, 
has — or  did  have  until  Belville  got  after  him — its 
"Old  Club  Foot."  Like  all  other  "Old  Club  Foots" 
he  does  not  go  an  ounce  under  two  thousand  pounds, 
and  if  the  last  two  men  who  weighed  him  ever  send 
in  their  figures  he  will  probably  weigh  a  few  hundred 
more. 

"Old  Club  Foot"  ranged  from  Santa  Rosa  to 
Temescal,  and  from  there  to  the  Sari  Jacinto  Moun- 
tain— all  famous  places  for  grizzlies  in  the  olden  time, 
and  a  few  still  linger  there.  When  this  fellow  was  on 
the  southern  end  of  his  beat,  one  of  his  favorite  places 
was  the  great  canon  that,  nearly  opposite  the  camp  of 
our  friends,  wound  its  way  a  mile  or  more  into  the 
dark  bristling  mountains. 


292      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA.      ' 

It  was  three  days  after  the  hunt  for  the  big  mule- 
deer — days  that  had  been  spent  in  lounging  along  the 
shady  stream,  shooting  at  doves  as  they  whistled 
through  the  timber  along  its  sides  or  rose  with 
twittering  wing  from  bathing  in  its  rocky  basins  of 
clear  water;  enlivening  the  dullness  of  rabbit  life  at 
morning  and  evening;  or  stimulating  quails  in  the 
low  brush.  Belville  had  started  down  the  creek  at 
dawn  to  look  for  a  deer,  and  before  he  had  been  gone 
half  an  hour  he  returned.  Finding  the  camp  all  quiet 
an'd  probably  still  wrapped  in  sleep,  he  tore  a  leaf  from 
his  pocket-book,  wrote  a  few  lines  on  it  and  fixed  it 
on  the  coffee-pot,  where  it  could  not  fail  to  be  seen. 
Then  he  shouldered  his  rifle  and  started  for  the 
mouth  of  the  big  canon. 

When  the  remaining  campers  went  to  get  breakfast, 
they  found  the  note  and  read  as  follows: 

"  Have  just  found  fresh  tracks  of  '  Old  Club  Foot ' 
leading  to  the  big  canon  on  the  west.  Did  not  wake 
you  for  fear  you  would  dissuade  me  from  going  after 
him.  But  I  have  never  before  had  a  chance  at  a 
grizzly,  and  am  not  going  to  be  scared  out  of  one  by 
his  size,  or  by  the  chaparral,  rocks,  or  anything  else. 
I  know  it  is  dangerous,  but  so  is  everything  else  in 
this  life.  Should  anything  happen — There  can't, 
though;  my  rifle  can  get  away  with  anything;  so 
there  is  no  use  in  providing  for  nothing.  Don't 
worry.  I  shall  probably  be  back  by  noon. 

B." 

"Mercy!"  exclaimed  Eveline.  "Charley,  can't  you 
find  him  and  stop  him  ?" 

"Oh  do!"  said  Laura,  pleadingly.     "It  is  horrible 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  HUNT.  293 

to  have  him  go  there  alone  into  that  dreadful  brush 
and  among  those  rocks  and  hills." 

Ah!  Belville,  why  not  think  of  that  before?  What 
bravery  in  following  such  a  monster  into  such  a 
bristly  tangle  of  stiff  chaparral,  where  you  stand  no 
chance  with  the  raging  giant  if  the  first  shot  is  not 
instantly  fatal,  where  he  may  rise  upon  you  unseen 
from  behind  some  bush  or  rock  at  less  than  ten  feet 
distance,  where  flight  is  impossible  and  no  friend  can 
reach  you  if  hurt,  or  perhaps  even  find  you  ?  For  neither 
the  vaquerd's  horse  nor  the  wild  bull  of  the  hills 
can  traverse  those  rugged  glens  and  the  dark  shaggy 
steeps  that  form  their  sides,  so  nearly  impenetrable  are 
they  to  all  but  the  grizzly  and  the  madman  who  fol- 
lows him.  Yet  what  makes  man  more  stupendously 
insane  than  false  ideas  of  bravery  ? 

"  A  dozen  well  men  could  not  stop  or  even  find  him 
in  there  now,"  said  Norton.  "  It's  a  crazy  piece  of 
work,  but  I  "see  no  help  for  it.  But  it  is  said  that  the 
odds  are  always  greatly  against  finding  a  bear,  even 
when  hunting  him  ;  so  it  may  be  all  right." 

Sorrowfully  they  got  their  breakfast  and  sat  down 
to  eat.  Scarcely  had  the  coffee  been  handed  around, 
when  sharp  and  clear  upon  the  cool  morning  air  came 
ringing  down  the  cafion  a  distant  rifle-shot.  Bancroft  Ubrau 

Eveline  spilt  some  of  her  coffee  in  her  lap;  her 
brother  suspended  half-way  a  very  energetic  and  so 
far  very  successful  bite  into  a  biscuit;  and  Laura 
dropped  into  the  ashes  a  quail  she  was  broiling. 
Before  the  echo  of  the  shot  had  died  along  the  hills, 
another  shot  came  rattling  down,  followed  in  another 


RIFLE,  ROD  AND    GUN  IN-  CALIFORNIA. 

second  or  two  by  a  continuous  bang,  bang,  bang, 
bang,    bang,  bang,   bang,  bang! — as   fast   as   nine   shots 
could  be  rolled  out  of  a  Winchester  repeater. 

They  said  not  a  word  until  the  last  echo  was  buried 
:n  the  dark  sepulchral  hills. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  had  got  him  now,"  said 
Norton. 

"  Wh — which  one  ?"  said  Miss  Norton,  in  a  tone  of 
very  anxious  doubt. 

Hour  after  hour  sped  from  the  bow  of  time,  feathered 
with  surmises,  fears,  hopes,  and  doubts,  until  the  last 
one  transfixed  the  raven  night  and  brought  it  down 
with  the  sudden  fall  characteristic  of  this  southern 
latitude.  And  yet  no  Belville  came.  They  built  a 
big  fire  and  waked  the  long  night  with  signal-guns, 
but  no  answer  but  the  echo  came  back  from  the 
looming  black  hills. 

At  dawn  Norton  started  off  for  help,  and  by  noon 
all  the  men  that  could  be  mustered  at  Santa  Margarita 
and  San  Luis  Rey  were  louring,  or  trying  to  scour, 
the  cafion  into  which  Belville  had  gone.  But  what 
avail  kind  hearts  and  willing  feet  in  chaparral  where 
the  hard,  dry  ground  shows  no  trace  of  a  moccasined 
foot ;  where  the  brush  turns  back  the  toughest  moun- 
tain-horse, yields  only  to  the  crushing  weight  and 
tough  hide  of  the  bear,  and  must  in  most  places  be 
threaded  on  hands  and  knees  ?  Two  days  were  spent 
in  the  search,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day 
one  by  one  the  searching  parties  returned  unsuccess- 
ful, and  the  quest  was  sorrowfully  given  up.  The 
last  vaquero  left  at  dark,  and  Norton  and  the  two 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  HUNT.  295 

ladies  sat  by  the  camp-fire  alone,  bewildered  and 
dazed  by  the  tragic  ending  of  their  .sport. 

Suddenly  Eveline  Norton  burst  out  crying.  Mrs. 
Norton's  large  dark  eyes  began  to  look  very  dewy. 
Norton  himself  wore  a  very  abysmal  countenance. 

"I'm  so  sorry  you  told  me  what  you  did!"  said 
Evy  to  her  brother's  wife. 

"  So  am  I.  But  it  would  have  made  no  difference," 
said  Norton,  soothingly. 

"  It  might  have.  Maybe  he  wouldn't  have  been  so 
reckless  if  we  hadn't — " 

"  What  ?" 

"  Quarreled  about  it.  It  was  Charley's  fault.  He 
ought  not  to  have  told  me  about  that,  or  told  him 
about  my  foolish  affair  with  Dr.  Hart.  I  liked  Dr. 
Belville  twice  as  much,"  sobbed  Evy. 

"He  was  worth  a  dozen  Dr.  Harts,"  said  Mrs.  Nor- 
ton, with  judicial  firmness  of  tone. 

"  He  was  certainly  a  very  clever  fellow,"  replied 
Norton,  "and  has  been  ver^kind  to  me,  and  to  all  of 
us.  He  has  done  his  best  to  give  us  the  best  shooting 
and  to  make  everything  comfortable.  We  should 
have  had  little  pleasure  here  without  him,  for  we 
would  not  have  known  where  to  go,  how  to  go,  or 
what  to  do.  Just  think  how  different  our  impressions 
of  everything  would  have  been  without  him." 

"  We  could  not  have  stayed  here  at  all.  How  could 
any  one  stand  such  a  lonely  country  without  traveling 
about  and  amusing  themselves  as  we  have  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Norton. 

*'  I  hope  you  didn't  treat  him  badly  on  account  of 


296      RIFLE,   ROD  AND   GUN  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

that  trifling  matter  I  spoke  to  you  about,"  said  Nor- 
ton  to  Eveline. 

"  Why  didn't  you  call  it  a  trifle  the  other  day  when 
you  told  me  about  it  ?"  she  replied,  half  indignantly, 
half  sorrowfully. 

"  You  were  as  good  a  judge  of  its  nature  as  I  was." 

"  You  know  I  always  look  up  to  you  as  my  only 
brother,  and  depend  upon  your  advice." 

"  But  I  certainly  gave  no  reason  why  you  and  he 
should  quarrel  over  it." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to.  I  spoke  mildly  enough  about  it, 
and  he  retorted  with  my  engagement  to  that  stupid 
Dr.  Hart.  I  got  a  little  provoked  at  discovering  that 
he  knew  of  it,  and  he  began  joking  and  teasing  me 
until  we  got  into  a  downright  quarrel,  and  I  finally 
told  him — " 

"What!  you  didn't  break  the  engagement?"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Norton,  in  dismay. 

"I  didn't  mean  to.  I  meant  to  make  up  yester- 
day," were  the  words  ^rne  out  on  a  fresh  flood  of 
tears. 

"  It  has  made  him  desperate.  He  was  a  man  of 
very  deep  feelings — very  deep,"  said  Mrs.  Norton. 

"Yes,  indeed  he  was.  I — shall  never — marry — any 
— one — now,"  sobbed  Eveline. 

On  the  following  morning  they  sadly  packed  their 
things  and  drove  away.  Sadly  they  rolled  over  the 
bare  sheep -trodden  'mesas,  the  sorrowful  -  looking 
brown  hills,  and  through  the  dreary  canons  of  the 
coast-road  between  San  Luis  and  San  Diego.  How 
different  everything  seemed  from  the  fresh  bloom 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  HUNT.  297 

they  saw  in  spring !  a  melancholy  sight  enough  to 
those  whose  eyes  are  undimmed  by  any  saddening 
associations,  but  doubly  so  to  our  friends,  to  whom 
even  the  fullest  blaze  of  California's  spring  beauty 
could  now  be  only  dull  and  dreary. 

They  endured  two  days  of  San  Diego's  quiet  life, 
and  then  fled  to  Miner's.  But  most  of  El  Cajon  was 
now  bare  and  brown  ;  the  roads  were  dusty  from  the 
travel  of  heavy  teams  ;  the  days  were  hot ;  the  winter 
boarders  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  would  not  arrive 
until  after  the  rain  came ;  there  were  no  ducks  yet ; 
the  quails  were  as  lively  as  they  were  numerous,  and 
vanished  up  the  hills  at  the  first  sight  of  a  gun. 
Though  Miner  and  his  family,  after  their  custom,  did 
everything  possible  to  make  it  pleasant,  El  Cajon 
seemed  hopelessly  gloomy  and  full  of  depressing 
reminders,  and  until  after  the  rain  came  there  was  no 
hope-of  an  improvement  even  in  external  nature. 

So  our  friends  soon  fled  to  Los  Angeles  in  search 
of  more  diverting  life.  Th^jjpeautiful  surroundings, 
the  orange-groves,  the  vineyards,  the  gardens  and 
orchards  of  the  City  of  the  Angels  relieved  the  dullness 
for  a  while.  But  none  of  them  could  forget  the  lost 
friend,  and  Norton  could  not  repress  his  sorrow  when 
he  thought  of  how  kind  Belville  had  been  to  him,  and 
pictured  to  himself  the  sad  and  graveless  death  and 
lonely  resting-place.  Nor  could  any  of  them  com- 
pare even  the  beautiful  orange-groves  they  saw  with 
the  live-oak  grove  in  the  wild  cafion,  the  bustle  of 
the  street  with  the  uproar  of  the  blue-plumed  myriads 
of  the  valley,  or  the  beautiful  drives  of  San  Gabriel 


298      RIFLE,    ROD  AND   GUN  IN   CALIFORNIA. 

with  the  rough  and  rugged  boulder-washes  of  the 
San  Bernardino  Mountains,  without  a  sigh  of  regret 
for  those  wild  scenes. 

So  they  soon  fled  to  Santa  Barbara,  and  landed 
once  more  full  in  the  loving  embrace  of  dullness  with 
the  memory  of  Belville  closely  haunting  them;  and 
from  there  they  beat  an  immediate  retreat  to  the  Ojai 
Valley. 

They  had  been  in  that  place  but  a  week,  and  were 
meditating  still  another  flight,  when  among  the  mail 
forwarded  from  San  Diego  came  a  paper  for  Eveline. 
Broad  pen-marks  called  her  attention  to  the  marriage- 
notices,  and  she  read: 

"At  Oakland,  Cal.,  on  -  — ,  by  -  — ,  Edward  Belville, 
M.D.,  to  —  — ,  of  Oakland." 

On  the  margin,  by  its  side,  in  Belville's  handwrit- 
ing, were  the  words,  "Not  false,  but  slightly  fickle." 

Blank  astonishment  and  perplexed  bewilderment 
were  at  first  visible  ojftevery  face  as  this  was  read 
aloud,  Joy  beamed  from  the  ladies'  eyes  as  they 
gradually  realized  that  their  friend  was  still  alive. 
But  after  these  transitory  phases  of  feeling  had  been 
manifested,  their  countenances  settled  into  an  expres- 
sion of  determined  resentment,  as  they  contemplated 
the  full  extent  of  the  imposition  that  had  been  prac- 
ticed on  them. 

"Why,  he's  been  engaged  to  this  girl  all  the  time!" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Norton,  with  flashing  eyes.  "Nearly 
all  his  letters  were  postmarked  'Oakland,'  but  he 
always  said  they  were  from  his  sister," 


THE   DOCTOR'S  LAST  HUNT.  299 

"I  just  knew  he  was  a  contemp — "  said  Eveline. 

"  I  could  have  told  you — "  said  Laura,  in  the 
same  breath. 

"  Be  chary  of  your  wisdom!"  interrupted  Norton 
"  It's  a  trifle  late.  The  best  cosmetic  for  the  face  of 
affairs  is  humility.  He  has  painted  all  three  of  you 
nretty  well  at  one  stroke — not  false,  but  fickle." 

"Charley,"  said  his  sister,  after  a  pause  as  long  as 
her  countenance,  "  did  any  of  the  men  look  to  see  if 
there  were  any  bear-tracks  that  morning  ?" 

"I  declare!  I  never  thought  to  ask  them  to  look. 
It  was  only  about  ten  miles  across  to  the  stage-road, 
too!  Perhaps — " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  interrupted  his  wife.  "  There's 
no  perhaps  about  it." 


THE    END. 


. 


X!<fc 


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maternity,  and  giving  detailed  instructions  for  the  care  and  medical 
treatment  of  infants  and  children. 


"A  carefully  written  and  very  com- 


as an  unusually   able  and  successful 


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ties. 


A  careiuny  written  ana  very  com-  as  an  unusually  a 
prehensive  work,  whose  author  has  for  practitioner.  .  .  . 
years  been  well  known  in  Washington  guide."— N.  Y.  7Y;, 

THE    INFANT    PHILOSOPHER  :    Stray   Leaves   from    a 
Baby's  Journal.     Parchment  Paper,  30  cts. ;  Vellum  Cloth,  50  cts. 

"Amusing  as  this  booklet  is,  its  object  form  of  quaint  simplicity.'1 —  The  Inde- 

is  not  frivolous  nor  even  literary ;  but  pendent,  N.  Y. 

the  serious  one  of  presenting  the  matter  ' '  Every  young  mother  should  be  fur- 

of    the    child's    needs  from   a  child's  nished  with  a  copy  of  this  dainty  bro- 

standpoint.    .    .    .   The  good  sense  and  chure.   which   is  as   much   a  book  of 

long  experience  of  the  most  observing  practical  sense  as  it  is  a  jcu  d"  esprit."— 

of  the  profession  is  embodied  in  a  new  Evening  Bulletin,  Philadelphia. 


FORDS,  HOWARD,  &  HULBERT. 


Dr.  William  Wagner. 
EPICS  AND  ROMANCES  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES.    Adapted 

from  the  German.    500  pp.,  8vo.    Numerous  spirited  Illustrations. 
Cloth,  gilt  edges,  $2.00. 


"  Presenting  familiarly  the   stirring 


"  Should  supply  the  requirement  of 
a  marked  interest  in  this  day  of  an  in- 
telligent appeciation  of  Wagner's  colos- 
sal music-dramas  ;  and  whether  for  the 
Grail  (Lohengrin,  Parsifal,  Tannhau-  delight  of  the  young,  or  the  pleasure 
ser,  etc.),  Tristan  and  Isolde,  and  all  of  the  elders,  it  comes  at  a  timely 
the  rich,  romantic  realm  from  which  juncture." — New  York  Star. 
Richard  Wagner  drew  his  potent  in- 
spiration."— Literary  World,  Boston. 

Major  George  E.  Williams. 

BULLET  AND  SHELL.  War  as  the  Soldier  saw  it : 
Camp,  March,  and  Picket ;  Battlefield  and  Bivouac  ;  Prison  and 
Hospital.  Illustrated  by  Edwin  Forbes.  I  vol.,  large  8vo. 
Illustrated.  Cloth,  $2.75. 

"Very  correct  history."  —  U.  S. 
GRANT. 

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SHERMAN. 

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James  Grant  Wilson. 

BRYANT  AND  His  FRIENDS.  Some  Reminiscences  of 
the  Knickerbocker  Writers.  BRYANT,  PAULDING,  IRVING,  DANA, 
COOPER.  HALLECK,  and  DRAKE  ;  together  with  POE,  N.  P.  WILLIS, 
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sketch  the  group  of  Knickerbocker 
writers.1'— New  York  Tribune. 

"  A  delightful  addition  to  the  stores 
of  literary  and  personal  history.11—  Chi- 
cago Inter-Ocean. 


"I  have  read  it  with  interest  and 
pleasure." — GEORGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS. 

•'  A  standard  volume  of  literary  his- 
tory.11— Boston  Evening  Traveller. 

"  Accept  my  thanks,  as  a  New  York 
author,  for  the  work  you  have  accom- 
plished.'1—EDMUND  C.  STEDMAN. 


IRemafnfcer  of  Xarge  ipaper  B&ftion 

WHICH  WAS  STRICTLY  LIMITED   TO   195  NUMBERED  COPIES. 

Illustrated  with  48  rare  Steel  Portrait  Plates,  4  views  of  Poets' 
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Cloth,  gilt  top,  uncut  edges,  $15.00.  In  Sheets,  for  adding 
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V*  Send  for  our  Selected  Catalogue  of  choice  American  books. 
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